


Normal Is As Normal Does

by AuroraNova



Series: The Normal Series [6]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final installment of the series, following Jack and Daniel in their post SG-1 lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this back on 2010 with the others but didn't post until 2012, when the first 3 parts went up on my LiveJournal. The final two will be making their debut here. 
> 
> Thanks to all who've commented to let me know they enjoy the series.

Jack hadn’t even bothered trying for an excuse this time, and had simply declined Sam’s invitation with, “Thanks, but no thanks.” She’d learned that the community theater group was putting on a play about Einstein, and with Eddie offworld poking around a rainforest Sam wanted someone else to go with. That someone was not going to be Jack. He’d rather watch paint dry.                           

Which reminded him that he needed to call painters. He and Daniel were never going to get around to painting the house on their own. Come to think of it, maybe they should just get vinyl siding instead. In the spring Colonel Fisk had been extolling the virtues of vinyl siding. Jack resolved to look into it.

Daniel wasn’t entirely sure Einstein would make an interesting play subject, but he’d gone along anyway, leaving Jack to his baseball game. Chicago had lost by an embarrassing margin, but at least the rookie pitcher showed a lot of promise. And Jack figured he’d still had a lot more fun that he would’ve at a play about Einstein.

The pair of empty beer bottles weren’t going to move to the recycling by themselves, so he made himself get out of his La-Z-Boy, rinse the bottles, and deposit them where they belonged. As comfortable as he was in his recliner, Jack had an ingrained dislike of clutter (in which his mother had taken an inordinate amount of pride.) It was his experience that leaving things around just led to more mess later, when the bottles got knocked over and broken. Besides, things like that could be highly inconvenient during spontaneous sex.

He’d just settled back in when he heard a key in the lock. Daniel probably hadn’t even stepped through the door before he told Sam, “Sorry the house smells like fish sticks.”

Daniel really hated fish sticks, but Jack liked them because they were easy and he had fond memories of making them for Charlie (once they’d made a crude house out of fish sticks), so he kept some around to eat when Daniel was out. Daniel tolerated the house smelling like fish sticks on occasion after Jack finally admitted he insisted on eating them because Charlie had liked them so much.

“I can barely smell it,” said Sam.

Daniel headed to the living room, where he and Sam sat on the couch. “Good game?” he asked.

“Disaster. Chicago lost by eight runs. Did you like the play?”

“It was… unique,” said Daniel diplomatically.

Sam shook her head. “They really didn’t do the science justice.”

Jack wondered if someday people would write plays about SG-1. He hoped not.

“We had an interesting encounter on the way out,” Daniel informed him. Sam groaned a little. “Someone recognized Sam from her press conference.”

She’d survived the press conference just fine, the Pentagon was pleased at how she handled it, and the production of zat guns was going full steam ahead. She hadn’t enjoyed the press conference, where she had to lie through her teeth when answering questions like, “How did you get the inspiration for this breakthrough?”

“He was flirting with me,” grumbled Sam. “Well, at me.”

“You’ve got a fan, huh?” This was interesting indeed.

She scowled. “There were way too many _Star Trek_ references in that conversation.”

Jack couldn’t contain his chuckle, and Daniel was smirking.

“I hope SGC doesn’t go public until I’m retired. Or dead.” Sam made a face that you’d never see on Colonel Carter, the officer.

“At least then there won’t be any reason to lie,” pointed out Daniel, who was hoping to go public sooner rather than later.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have concerns.”

“No,” admitted Daniel. “Though they’re more about the people who _don’t_ like what we’re doing.”

  
Jack agreed with that assessment. On the other hand, he couldn’t be too careful, so he resolved to have a couple of SFs discreetly make sure Sam didn’t have a crazy stalker. “There’s always offworld retirement,” he suggested, though he’d really rather stay and enjoy good old planet Earth after saving it so often.

“You’d have to learn the habits of all new fish species,” said Daniel.

“I didn’t say it was ideal.” And he hadn’t even thought of that point about fish.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Sam concluded. “Meanwhile in the present, I should go. I want to get up and work on that energy cannon in the morning.”

Jack refrained from pointing out that tomorrow was a Sunday. He’d long ago learned there was no point. At least Daniel’s weekend trips to the mountain now occurred only when there was an urgent situation, but then again he could work from home more easily than Sam. Neither of them differentiated much between work and play. That was a universal constant, like gravity or the Cubs not winning the World Series.

He just kept that last comparison to himself.

* * *

  
It was close to midnight by the time they left the mountain, and Daniel was relieved that SG-28 was alright. They’d been captured by natives who removed their gear and made them prove themselves on an obstacle course which even Teal’c had called ‘lengthy.’ Nyan’s preferred adjective was ‘arduous.’ No serious damage was done – a few cuts and no doubt sore muscles in SG-28’s future, but that was all. However, the missed check-in and failure to respond to their radios had ruined Daniel’s plans for the evening.

“Aliens are always interfering with our sex life,” he told Jack. “Have you ever stopped to think about that?”

“I try not to think about aliens and our sex life in the same sentence,” said his partner, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he often did at red lights.

Daniel supposed that was reasonable enough.

Jack yawned. “When I retire for good, I’m going to have so much sleep to catch up on.”

“When you retire for good,” replied Daniel without thinking, “within a month you’ll be tired of sleeping and driving me crazy.”

Jack didn’t agree in so many words, but his next statement was more or less a concession of Daniel’s point. “Maybe I’ll finally get around to learning how to fly fish.”

“You’ll fish, I’ll write.” And give guest lectures, if the stargate program was public by the time Daniel retired.

“Only you would think that qualifies as retirement.”

“Plenty of retired people write,” insisted Daniel.

“That’s not retirement, that’s a career change.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, and though Jack couldn’t see he probably knew anyway.

“Daniel?” asked Jack, uncertain in a way that grabbed Daniel’s attention. “Does it bother you that I’ll retire before you?”

Jack picked the oddest times for weighty conversations. On their second date Jack had brought up their age difference, and Daniel had thought the matter entirely settled. Evidently he’d been wrong. “With your track record, Jack, I’m not sure you’ll _ever_ retire.”

“I will,” insisted his partner.

He considered his words for a moment. “You never know. I might retire early.”

“In what alternate universe?”

Daniel ignored that. “We are who we are, cariad. I just can’t see you retiring any time soon. You’d be bored.”

“Yeah,” admitted Jack.

“Your theoretical retirement doesn’t bother me.”

That was true. What worried him more about their age difference was the likelihood that he would outlive Jack and suffer yet another crushing loss. But nothing was certain, and moreover Daniel had made a deliberate choice not to sacrifice the present to concerns over what might or might not happen in the future. He loved Jack. He was both happy and content with his life, their life. Really, that was all anyone could ask for.

“I’d still get to go home to you, even if you’re already home, and that’s what matters. Besides,” he added, “if the program goes public, your retirement might not be as quiet as you think.”

“The speaking circuit is all you. I’ll tag along for moral support and food I don’t have to cook.”

“You’ll tag along to gloat over my return to academic respectability.”

“That too,” conceded Jack.

Daniel doubted Jack would be able to get away with fading into obscurity if the program went public in his lifetime, which was likely. Current speculation – very much unofficial – was putting the public revelation within the next decade. General Hammond said the Pentagon would fight going public, but agreed with Jack’s assessment that it was inevitable. One of these days, something was going to happen that no cover story could explain, or someone would leak information that couldn’t be suppressed.

In the meantime, though… “Do you think staying this late entitles us to sleep in an extra hour tomorrow?”

“You mean today,” corrected Jack.

“You know what I mean.”

“You can sleep in. I have a phone meeting with the Pentagon at 0830.”

Sometimes, it was really nice not to be in charge.

* * *

  
Alana invited Jack into the living room. “Kelly will be out in a few minutes,” she explained. “There was an incident with the spaghetti sauce. It was the cat’s fault, actually.” In fact, Alana had just finished cleaning Mocha’s spaghetti-sauce footprints off the kitchen floor.  

“Everyone okay?” Jack asked, taking a seat on the couch.

“Yes, but Kelly needs to wash the sauce out of her hair.”

His eyebrows went up at that. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Neither had I.”

“I have to ask: what does the cat have to do with spaghetti sauce?”

“His stealth approach. Kelly didn’t know he was in the kitchen and she tripped over him. Her leftovers hit the microwave door and sauce splashed up all over her head. At least they were still cold.”

“Could be worse, then.”

“It usually could. How have you been?”

“No new complaints. You?”

“I spent six hundred dollars on my brakes.”

“Ouch.”

“They’re more sensitive now, I think. You might notice that today.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Thank _you_. Kelly’s driving is getting a lot better.” It was incredibly generous of Jack to teach Kelly to drive. Alana took her daughter out, too, but it was so much easier to practice new skills once Jack had gone over them. Kelly said he was a good teacher, but Alana could tell just by the improvements in Kelly’s driving. And, of course, the fact that neither Jack nor Kelly returned from their driving lessons a nervous wreck.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s something different.”

“Too different, for me. It’s very odd to ride with someone you gave birth to.”

Just for a second, Alana thought Jack looked a little sad, but that was gone within moments.

“I think it’ll be time for night driving soon,” he said.

Alana gulped. She hadn’t recovered from highway driving yet. “Really?”

“The way I see it, if we wait too long, it takes on a life of its own and she’ll start overthinking it.”

“I guess.” If anyone could overthink driving, it would be Kelly. Alana had hoped to put off night driving for a long time. Years, preferably. But night driving was an important skill, and sadly the loss of daylight was getting noticeable, so available daylight was diminishing.

“If you don’t want-” began Jack.

“No, you go ahead and take her out at night.”

“Not today, anyway. In the next month.”

She nodded. “Your lessons help a lot, I can tell. If you think she’s ready, I trust you. I might just let her practice with you a little more before I take her out at night.”

“She’ll be fine,” promised Jack.

“She will be. I might not.”                                                                                                         

Jack chuckled, but Alana hadn’t been entirely joking. Without Jack’s help, she might not have made it through Kelly learning to drive without a nervous breakdown.

* * *

  
It was Teal’c’s considered opinion that the game of golf had very little to recommend it. He played on occasion nonetheless, because while the game itself was tedious, the range of Tau’ri reactions to their experiences while golfing was both amusing and educational. This outing was no exception, and he was glad he had accepted O’Neill and General Hammond’s invitation. Ever since Teal’c had shown Rya’c Earth, his son expressed interest in the peculiarities of the Tau’ri. That morning’s golfing excursion had already provided Teal’c with several amusing anecdotes.

Besides, he needed a new form of entertainment since the _Weekly World News_ had been discontinued. That had been his favorite publication; it was much more sensational than _The National Enquirer_. He missed reading about the adventures of Batboy.

O’Neill was far from his best. He had invented a highly implausible explanation: sand traps had slightly higher gravity than the rest of the planet, thus making it likely that a golf ball in the vicinity would fall into them. “You’ve heard Sam talk about localized gravitational phenomena.”

“In a markedly different context,” noted Teal’c.

General Hammond grinned and shook his head slightly. “He’s right, Jack.”

“At least you are not beating a tree,” added Teal’c, which only furthered O’Neill’s scowl. Three holes prior, one of the men ahead of them bounced a ball off an oak tree. In outrage, the man proceeded to beat the tree trunk with his 8 iron.

“I hate this game.”

“We all do,” agreed General Hammond.

“And yet you still play.” This puzzled Teal’c. Samantha Carter had once attempted to explain to him the concept of ‘something you love to hate.’ He did not entirely understand, but suspected that golf fell under that category.

O’Neill’s cell phone rang. He checked the caller identification and answered with, “Hey.” This casual greeting told Teal’c that it was either Daniel Jackson or Cassandra Fraiser calling.

“Is he okay?” asked O’Neill, clearly concerned. Both Teal’c and General Hammond ceased their consideration of the golf course upon hearing this.

“There was a fire in Eddie’s apartment building early this morning,” O’Neill explained to them. “Daniel says he’s fine.” There was a pause while he listened, then relayed, “His cat too. But the building’s looking at being condemned. Shoddy wiring, electrical fire.”

Teal’c had not been to Eddie Hallowell’s residence, but had heard Samantha Carter remark that it was an old building and he could do better.

“Yeah, it sucks,” said O’Neill to Daniel Jackson, “but if nobody was hurt… uh-huh… he didn’t have anything sensitive in his apartment, did he? Good.”

While O’Neill listened, it occurred to Teal’c that this was likely another incident of greed being stronger than proper safety protocol. That was one of the less noble traits common to Tau’ri. Not among those with whom Teal’c was associated, of course, but the population at large. Daniel Jackson lamented greed frequently, while O’Neill and Samantha Carter were more resigned to its continued existence. Colonel Dinsmore had once insisted that it was better to live in a society where people were free to be greedy as opposed to one where nobody was free to do anything.

Still, despite allowing a great deal of greed, the Tau’ri had laws to prevent its worse excesses, at least in the United States of America. Teal’c wondered if the owner of Eddie Hallowell’s apartment building would be punished for the ‘shoddy wiring.’

“Bread and sweet potatoes, right. You too. Bye.” O’Neill pocketed his cell phone and said, “Nobody was seriously hurt, at least.”

“Electrical fires are terrible,” said General Hammond. Teal’c interpreted this to mean that the general believed electrical fires to be even worse than other kinds of fires.

“He had renter’s insurance.”

“That’s good,” said General Hammond.

“Renter’s insurance?” asked Teal’c.

“You know how there’s car insurance, health insurance, and house insurance?”

“Yes.” He now had a vehicle insurance bill, since purchasing his car. He had it automatically deducted from his bank account so as to avoid late fees incurred by unexpected mission extensions.

"Well, you don’t own an apartment, but renter’s insurance will cover the cost of replacing your stuff if something happens.”

“I see.”

“Now where were we?” asked O’Neill. “I think I was at two strokes.”

General Hammond laughed. “Nice try, Jack.”

O’Neill muttered something about anomalies in subspace ruining his aim.

* * *

  
Jack had gotten up at the crack of dawn to go fishing, and Daniel had resisted his partner’s attempts to convince him to go along. It had been a busy week and Daniel was looking forward to a lazy Sunday morning of sleeping in. When Jack got back, it was quarter of noon, late even for Daniel to be hanging around unshaven and still in pajamas.

“I caught a trout,” announced Jack as soon as he walked in the door. “Let it go, though.” When he saw Daniel, he added, “Well, look who’s just getting up.”

“Just getting up nothing,” retorted Daniel. “I’ve been on the phone for almost two hours.” He’d been so busy talking on the phone that he hadn’t managed to shower or dress yet.

Jack plopped down in his recliner. “Oh?”

“First it was Sam. She and Eddie have decided that he might as well just move in with her permanently.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Neither was Daniel, but Sam was insecure about her relationship track record and needed someone to listen. At the same time, she was intensely private so there were precious few people she would let know about her fears. She felt a bit better once Daniel agreed that her reasons for living with Eddie were sound.

“Cassie called to say that we won’t be meeting Brian Tuesday.”

“Why not?” asked Jack, who had been looking forward to his chance to meet the guy Cassandra was seeing.

“She broke up with him. They had a fight, and she said he was too cruel.”

At that his partner frowned. “Is she okay?”

“She will be. A couple of her friends were taking her out for retail therapy.” Plus, her classes started the upcoming week, so she would have plenty to occupy her mind. Daniel still found it hard to believe that Cassie was a college senior.

“Whatever works, I guess.” Jack liked to pretend he couldn’t possibly understand the concept of retail therapy, but each and every one of his Simpsons DVD seasons had been purchased while he was recovering from an injury. The main difference, as far as Daniel saw it, was that Cassie and her friends would roam around the mall for hours where Jack ordered from Amazon.com

“Then I spent forty-five minutes on the phone with Delta because I got an email saying that they changed our flight.” Their trip to Egypt was a month away. Daniel had promised not to drag Jack into every museum in the country, but instead focus on the places he really cared about. This was about introducing Jack to his childhood. Jack had stories of learning to fish; Daniel had stories of riding camels. It would be a good vacation.

“Did you get it sorted out?”

“Eventually, yes. And I’m going with Sarah to a guest lecture Thursday night at CSU. It’s a historiographical survey of Egyptology.” Jack just looked at him, waiting. “Historiography is the study of history as a discipline. Methods, interpretations, changes over time, et cetera.”

“Another one for you to blow out of the water when we go public,” concluded Jack.

“Well, yes.”

“So, about the flight changes.”

“They gave us an eight-hour layover in London.” Daniel thought that was simply ridiculous and insisted they could do better. Eventually, after enough insistence, they had. “Now we only have two hours in Paris.”

“Same days?”

“No. We have to take a red-eye Friday night to make it to New York for the connection.” That wouldn’t bother Jack, of course. Sleeping on a plane was nothing for him. Daniel, on the other hand, had never in his life slept on a plane for more than an hour and a half. Not even on their fourteen-hour overnight flight to Australia.

“You hate red-eyes.”

“I hate eight-hour layovers more.”

“Your call,” said Jack with a little shrug. Then, because he was a conscientious dog owner, he asked, “Is Zelda out?”

“Yes.” She’d lost interest in him while he was having a tense discussion with the third Delta agent.

“It’s a nice day to take her to the park.”

Before Daniel could reply, the phone rang. “Again?” he asked. “It’s like Grand Central Station around here.”

Jack checked the caller ID. “Aunt Kate,” he announced before picking up. “Hello.”

Daniel wondered if they would get off the phone long enough to get to the park.

* * *

  
Jack wasn’t used to this kind of excitement arising from one of SG-23’s missions. SG-23 was a solid team comprised of reliable, professional people. But they were a mineral survey team, so veins of naquadah or trinium tended to be the height of their exciting finds. On the plus side, they didn’t get in much trouble either. SG-23 was one of the teams he lost the least sleep over.

Daniel had impressed upon them early on the need to preserve archaeological evidence. To his vast relief, SG-23 had proven understanding. This time, though, they were edgy with excitement when reporting what they were pretty sure was Ancient “stuff.”

Daniel and his backpack of reference material had gated out to P8K-224 with all due speed. Jack sent along SG-2 as well. They were just hanging around pretending not to sulk because electromagnetic storms caused their mission to be cancelled, so he told them to go earn their pay on P8K-224. Besides, he liked the idea of having Colonel Warren watch over Daniel. You’d hardly notice if you didn’t see his little limp in the morning, but Daniel was off active field duty for a reason. At least the weak foot didn’t ache anymore.

Within an hour Daniel had decided he needed Jack to make things work. This meant enough technology to bring Sam out, and she was all but rubbing her hands in anticipation of examining Ancient doohickeys.

As Lt. Mann led them to the site, Jack was glad that the few other USAF personnel with the Ancient gene were either assigned to Atlantis or Antarctica. That gene got him out on a nice planet, and even though he was going to spend most of his time thinking things up for Daniel and Sam, the situation was pretty good. It was a nice sunny day, so he slipped his shades on. Purple sky, lime grass – this place didn’t go for subtle colors.

“That’s it?” asked Jack when they crested a little hill and he could see Daniel in the center of activity.

Sam agreed with his rather underwhelmed assessment. “One arch?”

Mann shrugged. “Dr. Jackson is confident it’s a door.”

One way to find out. They walked down the hill and joined Daniel’s group. The members of SG-23 refused to look guilty that they were hanging around for the show instead of returning to their mineral survey.

“Oh good, you’re here,” said Daniel. He was clearly working on translating the few Ancient characters written on the arch.

“This doesn’t look like a door,” Jack pointed out. “I can see Warren on the other side.”

“I never said it was a door. It’s a portal.”

“To what?”

Daniel indicted the books and notebooks scattered around his feet and stood up. “We’ll find out much faster if we just open it. Here,” he touched a small indent, “put your fingers here.”

Jack liked that he could operate this one-handed. He put his left fingers where Daniel instructed and kept his P-90 firmly in his right hand. That was the only problem with having this gene – if he was activating, he couldn’t really be guarding.

There was a little swooshing noise, and then the space under the arch moved. A trapdoor. Jack sighed a little, because that limited options for escape and he didn’t like that. Even when he wasn’t entirely expecting the need for escape. It rapidly became apparent he didn’t have to worry about that, though. Some kind of contraption rose out of the hole and settled in on a table, conveniently around waist height. It looked to Jack like a complicated sandcastle, only made out of crystal and metal.

Sam couldn’t get her instruments out fast enough to start scanning. “We haven’t seen anything like this,” she said, excited to play with a new toy.

Warren peered over her shoulder. “It doesn’t look like a door.”

“Portal,” corrected Daniel. “And it doesn’t necessarily mean a transition between physical places, in this usage.” He paused and checked one of his notebooks. “I think the closest translation is ‘Portal to Understanding.’”

Jack had to know. “So, if you had to guess, the chances of this thing frying us all?”

“Extremely remote.”

“I don’t think it’s a weapon, sir,” added Sam.

“Can you make it do something?” asked Daniel, thrilled by the tantalizing prospect of more understanding.

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to do. What am I supposed to do, think, ‘Do your thing, unless it’s gonna kill us?’”

Daniel just barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Try concentrating on the concept of understanding.”

Right. He could do that. He put his hands on a little metal joystick and thought. Understanding. He liked understanding. He’d like even better to understand what the hell he was trying to do at that moment. Knowledge, understanding…

“Oh!” exclaimed Daniel, whipping out the camcorder. “You did it, Jack. Look at this.”

Jack looked and saw a good square yard of illuminated Ancient text. And a familiar illustration. “Isn’t that the gate we just came through?”

“Sure looks like it to me,” agreed Warren. “I think the river’s moved further, though.”

“History. It’s a history of this planet!” Daniel was delighted, filming diligently. “Is there more, Jack?”

Thinking ‘more’ did nothing. “Try visualizing turning a page,” suggested Daniel.

That did the trick, and the display changed. This one had a couple of larger illustrations, though nothing like the first picture. They were more like charts and diagrams. Both Daniel and Sam examined them intently.

“Holy Hannah!”

“What?” asked Daniel and Jack together.

“I think this is a basic explanation of how the gate system works!” Jack had seen kids less excited at Christmas. Usually when unwrapping sweaters, but still. Sam was one happy astrophysicist. “We’ve been working with theories. Theories based on concrete evidence, but still… the Ancients had to have a very precise understanding of subspace to build the gate network. This…” she trailed off.

“Holy grail?” suggested Jack. She was so entranced that she forgot to reply.

Yep, if Teal’c were there it would be just like old times.

* * *

  
It was just past seven when Eddie decided to head home. Sam had torn herself away from her Gate System 101 long enough to call and tell him not to wait for her. If she got any sleep that night, Eddie figured it would be after midnight. It was a good thing she had no objections to crashing in lockdown quarters, since they’d driven in together and Eddie wanted to get home.

Sam wasn’t in her lab, so he headed to Daniel’s office. The two of them were probably having a grand time. Eddie, who had been known to lose track of time when studying new plant samples, understood exactly where they were coming from.

He passed Jack just before reaching Daniel’s office. “Another person going home alone tonight, I see,” said Jack by way of greeting.

“Naturally.” He held up the tray he’d taken from the mess hall. “I’m just dropping off food before I go.”

Jack eyed the selection of cookies, though he didn’t seem to have much interest in the bananas. “I brought sandwiches.”

Nobody bothered to bring coffee. Daniel had his expensive coffee maker and never let his coffee supply get too low. A few months ago, when the base was in lockdown for six days just in case the infection SG-19 brought back was contagious, he was reportedly the only person whose private food stash wasn’t depleted.

“Goodnight,” said Jack.

“Goodnight,” echoed Eddie as he knocked on the door.

The door couldn’t muffle the distracted tone of Daniel’s “Come in.”

Sam was putting together a giant printout of video stills, carefully lining up the pieces of paper to match exactly and taping them together against the wall. Meanwhile, Daniel was at his desk, surrounded by open notebooks, mumbling quietly about translating Ancient.

“Hi,” said Eddie.

“Hi Eddie,” replied Sam without taking her eyes off the Ancient diagram she was recreating.

Daniel muttered something about gerunds.

Eddie set down his tray. “I brought cookies and bananas.”

“Thanks,” said Sam.

“No problem.”

“This is going to substantially enhance our understanding of how the gate system works,” she told him happily, waving at something which he assumed was a model of a wormhole. “Daniel thinks this means subspace.” Sam tapped something – a word? – next to her diagram. “Of course, since old Latin didn’t have words for advanced physics, there’s a lot of educated guessing involved here.”

Between Sam and Daniel, they had a pretty good track record with their educated guesses, so Eddie figured they’d make out just fine.

“The next few days might be… woah, what’s this? Sorry, Eddie, I…”

“I know,” he said. And he really did. Their first fight had been after her stood her up when he forgot about their date because of some absolutely fascinating moss with an unusually fast rate of decomposition. Since then, they’d worked out a system of at least warning each other when they were going to delve into science and forget everything else.

That was something he cherished about his relationship with Sam, actually. Sure, she was an astrophysicist and he was a biologist, but they had science in common. He loved her as a woman, of course, not just as a scientist, but their relationship worked because they had the same priorities. He could spend every waking minute for three days on an orchid with analgesic powers (discovered accidentally by Commander Evans when he brushed against one and temporarily lost feeling in his hand), and Sam wouldn’t begrudge him that because she understood the rush, the allure of knowledge. Eddie had resigned himself to a bachelor’s life because he didn’t think he could find a woman who would understand him and his love for science. It turned out he just had to find a woman as devoted to science as he was.

And he always looked forward to their own private celebration of scientific breakthroughs.

* * *

  
The Portal to Understanding only had those two ‘pages,’ but it gave Daniel and Sam enough to keep them frantically working for two days. Jack and Eddie had managed to get them to catch a couple hours of sleep in lockdown quarters, but that was it. They pored over the video footage together to the exclusion of all else. Jack had never seen Daniel so uninterested when UAV footage showed stelae. It was slightly unnerving.

Eventually they’d worked out the basics, and then they called Jack to Daniel’s office, where the video stills had been printed out larger than they had been on P8K-224, hung up, and studied.

“We think,” explained Daniel, “that P8K-224 was a place the Ancients took their children to teach them.”

“Hence the understanding,” said Jack, who liked it when these explanations made sense.

“Right. It’s simpler language than we usually see with Ancient. At least, as far as I can tell.”

Mastery of Ancient continued to elude Daniel, to his great frustration. Jack figured a lack of remaining corporeal speakers was a pretty good reason to not speak fluent anything, but details like that never bothered Daniel. Since the age of sixteen he’d devoted his life’s work to languages nobody spoke anymore, after all.

“Their kids’ science lessons are still incredible.” Obviously, Sam would’ve done a lot to get her hands on an adult version.

“P8K-224 used to be populated,” explained Daniel. “Then – and I don’t know how long ago, but I think this monument to them has probably been around at least twenty thousand years, although of course that’s going by our admittedly limited timeline of the changes in Ancient writing – anyway, there was an ice age coming on.”

An image of a wooly mammoth popped into Jack’s head. “They were wiped out by an ice age?”

“According to this, yes. The tragedy is that the Ancients tried to help the inhabitants. They brought a stargate and offered to bring the people of P8K-224 to a new world. But the people thought it was evil magic. They were terrified, and they refused to go through the gate.”

“So they died,” Jack finished.

“Yes.”

“I think I’d have liked the Ancients better when they didn’t mind interfering,” he decided. At least they’d _tried_ to help the people of P8K-224. Jack wished the Ancients had waited until the Goa’uld had been defeated before going into their non-interference phase.

Sam tapped the second photo. “The Ancients saw this as a sort of warning. They wanted to make sure their children knew the basic science behind the stargates, so they would never think it was magic and fear the gate system.”

“Apparently, there was a sector of Ancient society which had started taking their science for granted,” added Daniel, always happy for juicy details about a lost culture.

“So, basically, this is the Ancient version of a field trip to a museum.”

“I guess you could put it that way,” conceded Daniel in a tone which implied that _he_ would never put it that way.

Jack eyed the explanatory diagrams warily, waiting for the physics lecture. He was good with normal physics, things like g-forces and how to direct an explosion. But all of this wasn’t regular, normal physics with standards like gravity and velocity. Those made sense. All of this business with subspace and compressed molecules and ‘please, sir, don’t even joke about firing your weapon in transit, we have no idea what that would do!’ – this was the kind of stuff he tried to avoid.

Before the lecture could start, though, he heard the familiar phrase, “Unscheduled offworld activation.”

Saved by the alarm.


	2. Part II

Sam needed a little space, so she went out on her motorcycle. It was a great evening for a ride, and she’d always found riding her bike allowed her to calm down. This living together business wasn’t as easy as – well, as easy as Jack and Daniel made it look. (Of course, they didn’t have to worry about someone putting bras in the dryer. Eddie took care not to own clothing he couldn’t put in the dryer, and it had come as quite a shock to him when Sam scolded him for shortening the life of her bras via the dryer.) After a while, she ended up at their house without really thinking about her destination.

As soon as she cut the engine she could hear a commotion in the backyard, so she put her helmet down and went around the back. There she found her friends attempting to bathe a very muddy dog. Both of them were shirtless, barefoot, and soaking wet. Sam knew many women at SGC –and Trevor Voss from Daniel’s department - would pay good money to see this.

At least she and Eddie were both cat people, so they didn’t have pets to disagree about. Roxanne was a good cat, and she’d adapted well to her new home. Sam liked having her around. That was a good thing, because Roxanne was inevitably around. This cat had no interest in going outside, possibly because Eddie had rescued her when she was half-starved on the side of the road. She liked to stay where she was warm and well-fed. 

Daniel got a dirty tail slapped against his face. He yelped out something that was no doubt a curse – Sam guessed it was Arabic, but couldn’t be sure.

“Don’t suppose you’re here to help?” called out Jack as she headed to the back porch.

“No.”

Jack finally managed to get a solid hold on Zelda so Daniel could turn the hose on her back. “Thanks a lot.”

Rationally, Sam knew that living together was a challenge for any couple. Daniel had even told her as much. Still, she couldn’t help but admire how Jack and Daniel made it look effortless. Sam was thirty-eight – would be thirty-nine before the year was out – and she’d never lived with a boyfriend before. Her track record with men wasn’t great to say the least. She loved Eddie, and she really thought that their relationship would last. They wanted the same things out of life. She was happy with him. Eddie was the only man who’d ever shared her passion for science **_and_** made her feel like a princess.

Still, she couldn’t help but being scared she’d screw this relationship up over stupid things like laundry.

Several minutes later, Zelda was clean and Jack and Daniel were the dirty ones. Jack turned the hose on himself, then Daniel. Good thing it was a warm evening.

Daniel’s glasses were on the railing; Sam handed them to him when he wandered towards her. “Thanks,” he said, sitting down along side her. “Zelda played in the mud.”

“I’m surprised there was any mud left when we got her to come out,” added Jack.

Sam gave a little sigh. Jack looked at her for a minute, recognized her I-need-to-talk expression, and promptly announced, “I’m going to clean out the fridge.”

Both Sam and Daniel chuckled as he fled inside, Zelda trotting along behind him. Sam wasn’t the least surprised. She and Jack were friends, yes, both of them members of the SG-1 family. They were comfortable with each other, having settled into being professional at work and friends outside of the mountain. But Jack didn’t do talking. Daniel was much better at it, or at least just listening.

This was another of those times Sam could’ve used Janet’s wise counsel. Daniel, though, was alive and there and patiently waiting for her to explain what was going on.

“You two make living together look easy,” she said at last.

“Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t.”

“Right.” So she was learning.

“We didn’t speak for over an hour Thursday night. You’ll never guess what the fight was about.”

“Baseball game or History Channel special?” she tried.

Daniel shook his head slightly. “There was a program on Discovery we both wanted to watch. We fought over whose fault it was the popcorn burned.”

“There must be something about kitchens.” When he gave her a questioning look, Sam elaborated, “Eddie puts utensils in the dishwasher standing up. Even the knives. He says they’ll get cleaner that way. I told him they won’t be cleaner if I bleed all over them.”

Daniel understood that it wasn’t the time for jokes. “It’s hard to find the balance between letting little things go and letting them fester.”

“Or you think you let them go, but really let them fester,” added Sam, who had firsthand experience with that thanks to the knives incident.

“I think the most important thing is to admit when you overreact. Even if you don’t use words.”

It was odd, on one level, for a linguist to suggest words might not be necessary. Then again, Jack was very much an actions-speak-louder-than-words man, so it all made sense really.

“There’s a lot to like about cohabitating,” she said. “Saturday afternoon I took Cassie out for pedicures. When I got home, Eddie had spelled out the chorus to ‘Beautiful Soul’ in Alpha-Bits. That’s our song.” They didn’t even have Alpha-Bits; Eddie had gone out and bought the cereal just for that. They hadn’t used the table until Tuesday because Sam didn’t want to ruin his gesture. “I’m not sorry he moved in.”

Daniel proved he was on the same page by finishing, “But nothing’s perfect.”

“No.” After a minute of staring out into their backyard, Sam confessed, “I don’t want to screw this up, Daniel. I love him too much.”

He knew better than to offer a simple, palliative promise that she wouldn’t. Instead, he nodded in understanding. “I think it’s better if you don’t take a relationship for granted.”

“As long as I don’t worry it to death,” she muttered.

Daniel couldn’t quite hide his grin. “You’ll figure it out, Sam. It took us time to get where we are.”

She remembered Daniel’s frustration when he first moved in and thought Jack was trying to hide away some of his favorite artifacts. It turned out that Jack wasn’t trying to hide them; he was afraid of breaking Daniel’s treasures and wanted to protect them.

Her problem had always been that her science and Air Force work came before relationship work. Even with a man who shared her priorities, it was a balancing act. Now, just when she felt she was doing well, there was this new dimension of melding their domestic habits. She was much better with physics puzzles.

When she got home, Sam took Daniel’s advice. She kissed Eddie and told him she could get used to looking for upright knives in the dishwasher if he could get used to checking to make sure he didn’t put bras in the dryer. Then, for good measure, she thanked him for not wanting a dog.

* * *

 

Jack figured it was time to roll his coins. His change situation had gotten a little out of control, so he retrieved the jars, popped open a beer, and dug the little sleeves out from the back of a drawer.

He sat down with a full jar and a second that was nearly full. This was going to take a while. He dumped the contents of the first jar onto the table carefully, then started pulling out the quarters.

He was on his second roll of quarters when Daniel came in, headed for the fridge. Daniel never had much change because he’d fully embraced the use of his debit card. Jack didn’t want a debit card. If he was short on cash, he pulled out the MasterCard and wrote a check when the statement came.

Daniel apparently felt like pudding, because he made up a box of instant. Zelda, who was always interested in kitchen noises, came in to investigate. Daniel fell for her sad eyes – again – and gave her a treat. Then he sat at the table to wait while his pudding gelled. If he didn’t, he’d forget all about it.

“Whatcha thinking?” asked Jack, who was always curious when Daniel got that little hint of a smile.

“Something I hadn’t thought of in years.”

“Oh?”

“My second foster home, with the Havershams. Mr. Haversham had a huge bucket of coins. There were four of us, and he told us if we rolled all the coins we could split the money equally.”

“Pretty sweet deal.”

“It was,” agreed Daniel. “The Havershams were good to me.”

Jack tried not to pry, he really did. The thing was, he wanted to understand the forces that had shaped his lover into the incredible man he was. “So there were the Brays and the Havershams,” he said, leaving the option for Daniel to stop the conversation there. 

“The Sikarskis, and Mrs. Olson.”

“Sikarskis.” What had Daniel said about them? “Macaw people?”

“You remember that?” asked Daniel, delighted.

Jack shrugged a little and folded the ends of his roll of quarters. “I try to understand,” he explained. “All these things that influenced who you are, you know?”

Daniel nodded. “Peanut. The macaw was named Peanut. I missed him most when they… when I left.”

Ah. Some less-than-pleasant memories there.

“You really want to know, don’t you?” asked Daniel. “I never – I guess I got used to pity when people asked.”

“Not pity, cariad,” promised Jack. Not for Daniel now, although maybe some for the kid he’d been.

“I get that. I felt like I understood you a little more after talking with Aunt Kate.”

Which reminded Jack that he should call his aunt soon. Her stove had damn near blown up, and he wanted to make sure she’d replaced it.

“I told you about the Brays. They were the most important, I think, if you want to understand me after my parents. Mrs. Bray taught me a lot in those three years. She understood that I wasn’t like other kids, that I literally didn’t have a frame of reference for an average life. She helped me navigate that while staying true to myself.”

“Sounds like a good woman.”

“She was,” agreed Daniel. “The Havershams were good, too. I think I’d have stayed with them longer, but they split up just before my fourteenth birthday. The Sikarskis weren’t bad. I didn’t cause trouble, so they let me be.”

Jack translated this as neglect, but knew better than to voice that opinion.

“Until Mr. Sikarski saw me kissing a boy and sent me packing. By the time I got to the Mrs. Olson, it didn’t matter that she was a good foster mother. I was sick of other people controlling my life.”

He understood that Daniel generally didn’t dwell on those eight years in foster care, and didn’t press for more details. “So, I guess a self-reliant genius was a no-brainer for emancipation, huh?”

“Evidently.”

Jack grabbed the pudding from the fridge and served them each a bowl. “Thank you,” he said, kissing Daniel briefly. He was grateful for the gift he’d been given – of trust, of a glimpse into what his boyfriend kept intensely private.

“I got to see your baby pictures,” answered Daniel. Then, changing the subject, he asked, “I wonder how Aunt Kate is doing?”

“I’ll call this afternoon.” He hoped he got spared the minute details of his aunt’s knitting group. He was glad she enjoyed it, and the women made hats, scarves, and mittens for needy kids so it was a good cause. Jack just didn’t especially enjoy hearing which patterns were the hardest.

* * *

  
Between the two of them, Daniel thought he and Jack had dreamed up nearly every possible nightmare. They didn’t talk about them often, but they just knew. Jack had nightmares about Iraq, Ba’al’s torture, Daniel’s deaths, and it wasn’t uncommon for a nightmare about Charlie’s accident around the anniversary of his death. Or so Daniel had surmised from the date and the time Jack cried out his son’s name in his sleep. As for himself, Daniel had nightmares about falling stones, Goa’uld taking his loved ones as hosts, and becoming who he was in Shifu’s vision.

Then there was the old standby, one of the nightmares that haunted most SGC personnel: staff weapons. They’d very nearly lost Colonel Lukov that morning after the Russian took two staff blasts to the chest. Without that material which absorbed the energy, the one that Sam had spent so much time on, Lukov would certainly be dead. Daniel would’ve bet money he wasn’t the only one whose own close encounters had been dredged up by Lukov’s injuries. He was probably, however, the only one who’d technically died more than once from a staff blast.

Jack, the perennial light sleeper, realized Daniel was missing from the bed and found him on the back deck. It was cloudy and only a few patches of stars were visible, but the early September night breeze was refreshing. Jack also knew him well enough to see that Daniel had been deep in thought, about life and death and staff weapons.

“Hey,” said Jack. “Don’t you know it’s too late for deep thoughts?”

“Technically, it’s early.”

“Any time nobody can agree on what to call should be spent in bed,” retorted Jack, but he meandered over and hugged Daniel from behind.

Daniel leaned against his partner, grateful for Jack’s warm presence grounding him. “Do you ever wonder what other people think when they look up at the stars?”

“Nope.”

“I never thought much about it until the stargate.”

“Too busy digging in the dirt,” replied Jack, his affectionate tone taking any sting out of the words.

“More or less.” His senior year at UCLA he’d briefly dated an English major named Max who wrote long poems about the night sky. Honestly, Daniel had never understood the magnetic pull that the stars seemed to have on Max and so many other people. Not until he learned what was _really_ up there.

“I wanted to be an astronaut,” said Jack. “Kennedy had just announced the plan to put men on the moon, and I thought it was the coolest idea ever. Clear nights up at the cabin – different cabin then, same spot – I’d lay on the grass and imagine what it would be like to fly to the moon.”

“You got a lot further than the moon.”

“Whole other galaxy,” agreed Jack. “It’s weird, though. A lot of the places we’ve been have been a lot like Earth.”

“Only because the Ancients chose their locations carefully.”

He could feel Jack nodding. “I know. Besides, there were always the things that were so obviously _alien_. A lot more interesting than the moon, really.”

“That we know of,” added Daniel.

“Hoping to find the ruins of the lost civilization of the Moon People?”

“Without a decent atmosphere? Not likely. I’m just saying that we never know for sure. Everything we thought we knew before was wrong, after all.”

Jack kissed his neck gently. “Not you.”

“I couldn’t have imagined-”

“Maybe not, but you were a lot closer than anyone else.”

They were quiet for a couple minutes after that. Daniel thought of all the people who had died out there, all the people who had encountered a staff blast before this wonder material (and, unlike him, without a convenient sarcophagus). He thought of Janet, so full of life and so dearly missed; of Sha’re, the woman he’d loved but had barely begun to know, set free in death; of Robert Rothman, a kindred mind lost because they didn’t know what they’d gated into. Daniel had learned a long time ago that life wasn’t fair, had made his peace with that as much as anyone could. That didn’t mean he still didn’t ache over what might have been.

“Mom loved that Doris Day song,” said Jack suddenly. “Que Sera, Sera.”

It wasn’t grammatically correct, but Jack knew that and it wasn’t his point. “Whatever will be, will be,” said Daniel.

“She’d go around the house singing it. Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see. We didn’t know, Daniel.”

Daniel turned so they were face to face and pulled his partner in for a hug. Jack knew exactly what he was thinking, probably because he was thinking the same thing: “What if?” What if they’d gotten the material earlier? What if they’d gated to the planet that had it? What if someone had thought it up independently?

And Jack, in his own way, was reminding Daniel that they couldn’t change anything. They couldn’t change the past anymore than they could foresee the future.

“Que era, era?” he quipped.

“Yeah,” said Jack with a little smile. “Que era, era.”

Nothing had changed, of course, but Daniel felt a little lighter, and he let Jack lure him back to bed with the promise of a neck massage.

* * *

  
Jack strode into the infirmary as the bearer of good news. “Is Colonel Lukov awake?” he asked Dr. Brightman.

“Yes sir, awake and bored. Go ahead.”

He rounded the corner. “Good morning, Colonel.”

“Good morning, sir,” replied Lukov, sticking a bookmark in his book. It was a Russian book, Jack could tell from the Cyrillic alphabet. Personally, Jack had always done better with languages which used Roman alphabets, so it was probably just as well he had spent so little time in the USSR.

“Brightman still have you on the good drugs?”

“It’s the last day,” said the Russian. “I might not be such pleasant company tomorrow, sir.”

“When a man takes two staff blasts, he’s allowed to be lousy company.” Lukov wouldn’t have made it without that new material which absorbed staff blast energy. Jack tried not to think about how many people could’ve been saved if SGC had the technology earlier – all the ‘what ifs’ in the galaxy couldn’t bring people back. Unfortunately, the material didn’t work nearly so well after the first hit. “Anyway, I come bearing good news.”

Lukov looked intrigued. “That’s been in short supply lately. Other than my continued existence, of course.”

“Of course. Captain Tarasova mentioned that you were leaving for Moscow Thursday.”

“Yes sir. To meet my new nephew.”

“She said you’re very disappointed to postpone your leave.”

Lukov nodded.

“We’ve arranged for a video teleconference at 1100.”

That news got him a very happy Russian colonel. “Thank you, sir. It will – how do you say – tide me over very nicely.”

Despite his inherent distrust of Russians, Jack had to admit that Lukov was a good officer and effective SG team leader. Lukov’s team trusted and respected him. He was a bit more authoritarian than most SG team leaders, but it worked well for his team, and he played nicely with other teams when needed. He respected Jack’s command. All in all, Jack couldn’t come up with anything other than being Russian that he really didn’t like about Lukov, so he made a concerted effort to treat the man like any other SG team leader. (Daniel called this a sign of personal growth.)

Leaving one pleased Russian in the infirmary, he headed out to deal with less pleasant tasks. For reasons he would never understand, he had to approve renovations to the VIP suites. As if he cared what color they were painted or what style the furniture was.

Jack rounded the corner and almost collided with Siler. Well, Siler and Sergeant McLellan, who was supporting Siler as he hobbled along, not putting any weight on his right foot.

Damn. Siler had only gotten his left wrist out of a cast a week and a half ago.

“Sorry, sir.”

Jack shook his head. “What happened this time?”

“There was a grease spill, General,” said McLellan. “Someone missed a spot.”

“It’s just a sprain,” Siler added. He should know; he’d had enough of them.

“Take care,” said Jack, moving along so they could get to the infirmary.

Poor Siler. For a man who never went through the gate, he spent a heck of a lot of time in the infirmary. Suddenly, Jack’s stupid approval forms for the remodeling didn’t seem so bad. At worst he’d get a paper cut, and even those were few and far between.

* * *

  
Daniel was going to eat lunch with Sam and Sue Thibodeau, but thought better of that idea as he neared their table and heard the phrase ‘in-shower body lotion.’ Instead he walked over to where Paul Davis was staring at his penne. “Mind if I join you?”

“Oh, sorry, Dr. Jackson. Have a seat.” Davis looked around, then leaned forward and quietly added, “I just made the mistake of mentioning to Teal’c that I majored in political science.”

Teal’c had long wanted someone with whom he could discuss political theory; it was part of his quest to build a strong Free Jaffa Nation. He probably had a very long list of questions. “If I were you,” suggested Daniel, “I’d free up an entire afternoon. Maybe two.”

“On duty?” asked Davis cautiously.

“Sure. Helping Teal’c work out ideas for the Free Jaffa can fall under diplomacy.”

“If you don’t think General O’Neill would mind…”

“I don’t think he would expect anyone to consider it a leisure activity.” Jack certainly wouldn’t. He’d promised Teal’c an in-depth political discussion the next time they went fishing together. Teal’c was apparently not that desperate.

Davis nodded in agreement and took a bite of his penne.

“Then again, he’s been looking for someone knowledgeable about political science for a while now. You could probably swing a free meal out of it.”

This prospect clearly appealed to Davis, who said, “That could work. I’m a terrible cook.”

Daniel had done his best to help Teal’c, but could only go so far. “I just hope you can explain the Electoral College to his satisfaction. I couldn’t.”

Teal’c was in luck, because Davis seemed undaunted. “I tutored American Government 101 for two and a half years. Teal’c’s smart, and a hell of a lot more motivated than most of the students I worked with.” After another mouthful of penne, he continued, “The man has a full-time job with SG-28 and works on nation-building in his spare time. Talk about devotion. You’ve got to admire that.”

Daniel completely agreed with that. Everyone at SGC kept busy with the responsibilities of their duties and the importance of SGC to Earth. Teal’c took on the burden of the Free Jaffa as well. He couldn’t _not_ take it on, because that was just who he was.

“I agree. It’s even more complicated because the Jaffa don’t have any traditions to build on. American history is far too recent to fall within my expertise, but our Founding Fathers already had the ideological groundwork. Some of the practical foundations they needed, too.”

“No Jaffa equivalent of John Locke,” agreed Davis. “I think that’s part of the problem for Teal’c, actually. Has anyone suggested that he read some of the Enlightenment texts?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Most people don’t realize how critical the Enlightenment was to the development of the modern era.”

“How so?”

“I’m sure you’re aware that much of how we think is a cultural construct.”

“Of course,” said Daniel with a nod. Applied to communication, that was one of the basic concepts underlying everything he studied.

“The intellectual tradition we inherited from the Enlightenment colors everything, especially how we think. Now, different Western cultures spin it differently. In America we’re much more concerned with individual liberty than, say, the Germans. But the principle remains.”

“I’ve never really given as much thought to the modern era, but it makes sense.” It made tremendous sense, actually.

“I’m sure that Teal’c will find a lot of what he reads unsuited to the Free Jaffa,” continued Davis. “I don’t know enough about them to really know what _would_ suit them.”

“Still, you’re just the person Teal’c has been looking for.”

“I hope I can live up to that.”

“You’ll do just fine,” promised Daniel.

“As long as he doesn’t expect me to make sense of tax codes. _Nobody_ could explain those.”

“I don’t think he’s interested in tax codes.”

“That’s a relief,” said Davis.

Daniel thought it was just as well that Teal’c had already done a study of American taxes, if only because he wanted to know what everyone was complaining about.

* * *

  
When Jack left for Washington on a trip which, regrettably, could not be assigned to Colonel Davis (not for lack of trying), Daniel had planned to work on his book, the one about Egypt under the Goa’uld. Not sixty hours later when Jack returned, Daniel was writing a book, alright, but not the same book.

“It’s about Asgard activities on Earth,” explained Daniel over dinner, which was Chinese takeout Jack had picked up on the way home from the airport.

“So, Thor’s mission reports were just begging to be written about, huh?”

“Well, yes.”

Jack shook his head fondly and grabbed an egg roll. “You are such an overachiever. Why don’t you just start one about the Ancients and make it a trilogy?”

“I would, but we don’t really have enough material for a whole book on the Ancients.” This was clearly something Daniel found highly regrettable. Jack too, but more on the chance that knowing more about the Ancients would lead to better, Goa’uld-defeating weapons.

Jack consoled his lover by suggesting, “Just think, your books will probably introduce a whole new generation to archaeology.”

This, naturally, made Daniel very happy. “It’s going to take years to properly go through all our material. Decades, even.”

Not particularly eager to delve into the details – it had been a tiring trip, as visits to Washington usually were – Jack changed the subject. “Did I miss anything else?”

“I learned that Zelda likes licking out peanut butter jars once we’ve emptied them.”

He hadn’t mentioned that when they’d talked on the phone last night. “Just what she needed,” said Jack, “another way to be spoiled.”

“Sam was pleased with her lessons yesterday.”

Jack had forgotten about those. She was going to Peterson to train people to train people on using the new zat guns. The Air Force was beside itself with the scientific and PR coup, but Jack didn’t expect the zats to be all that widespread. He had refrained from reminding Daniel or Sam, but it didn’t make much sense to stun terrorists and let them wake up to fight again. Certainly, the zat guns would have their uses. It was reasonable to assume that in some situations, like city streets, they could reduce civilian causalities. But if the enemy couldn’t be secured… well, even when SGC had access to zats, they usually favored standard issue projectile weapons. Jack didn’t expect that to change any time soon, at SGC or in Afghanistan.

Still, the first field units would be receiving zats for trial use soon. “Glad it went well,” he said.

“And someone asked Teal’c on a date.”

Jack almost dropped his teriyaki. “Do tell.”

Daniel grinned and leaned in. “He decided his car needed a remote starter so he can warm it up when it’s colder, and since I got one installed last year he asked for my help.”

That made sense. Neither Daniel nor Teal’c handled cold very well. Jack, who had made the unpleasant discovery that the older he got the worse he found the cold, was thinking about getting a remote starter for his truck. If anyone decided that was cause to question his Minnesota credentials, he could blame it on Daniel.

“We had a couple hours before the mechanic could install it, and I saw a new bookstore right down the road,” continued Daniel. “I left Teal’c in the mystery section and when I found him by the travel narratives he was politely telling a woman that he has given his affections to another.”

That was as much of a commitment to Ishta as Teal’c had ever given. Those two had a very odd relationship. “That’s more interesting than my meetings.”

Daniel was not at all surprised. “I imagine Washington was more of the same?”

“Yep. Thor called this morning, though. He got our message about leaving those Trust bastards stranded.”

“Good.”

“He called while I was meeting with Generals Yarrow and Ives, Admiral Flaherty, and the Secretary of Defense,” added Jack, who’d quite enjoyed interrupting that meeting with his casual, ‘Excuse me, it’s Supreme Commander Thor.’

“And you just loved that, didn’t you?” asked Daniel knowingly.

“What’s not to love?”

Daniel just shook his head and stabbed a piece of his moo shu pork, but then Jack felt his lover reach out and start a game of footsies. Ah, it was good to be home.

* * *

  
Daniel was hungry and really would’ve liked to have eaten an actual meal for lunch. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that his level was one of the designated levels to be sealed off for most of the afternoon. SG-3 was testing potential new Marine recruits, and their plan involved sealing off several levels supposedly contaminated with radiation. It was just Daniel’s luck that he’d forgotten about this exercise and thus neglected to get a sandwich from the mess hall.

At least he had some food in his office. Plenty of coffee, of course, but didn’t help much with his hunger. A bit of scrounging turned up a Snickers bar, a bag of Skittles, some pretzels, a handful of mixed nuts, and a box with three raspberry NutriGrain bars. The NutriGrain bars had to have been Sam’s at one point, because she liked them and raspberries were her favorite fruit, while Daniel had never been a NutriGrain fan. He was hungry enough to rip into one anyway.

Besides, it could’ve been worse. SG-3 had come up with a scenario that didn’t involve him getting zatted. That was always a plus. For some reason he and Sam tended to end up on the wrong end of a zat during these sessions. Jack had finally told the teams to start getting more creative, because Daniel and Sam had better things to do. It was hard to work on translations when he was waiting for the post-zatting headache to subside.

Creativity was working well, too. A couple of months before SG-2 had managed to convince their recruits that they’d ended up in a parallel universe. Everyone had thoroughly enjoyed themselves that day. Particularly Siler, who got to be a Colonel for a day.

Daniel tried to get back to work, but the NutriGrain bar and the nuts only satisfied his stomach for forty minutes. Unfortunately, he was working on a routine briefing for SG-8, which was not the kind of thing he tended to lose himself in to the point of forgetting hunger. His stomach growled in protest.

Just as he reached for the Snickers bar and tried to get back to his summary of ancient Macedonian culture, his phone rang. This briefing was going to take all day.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Daniel,” said Jack warmly. “Did you check your cabinet?”

“Um, no.” He wasn’t in the habit of examining his office cabinets. “Why?”

“Just check it.”

It would be a lot faster to check the cabinet than try to persuade Jack to explain himself. To Daniel’s surprise, his pencils and erasers had been moved aside in order to make room for a sandwich, sitting on an ice pack. He took the plate back over to his desk, peeling back the plastic wrap. Turkey and cheese, and even a pickle on the side.

“Find it?” asked Jack.

“Thanks, Jack.”

“No problem. You were too busy thinking about that monument this morning.”

The monument in question had one of those vexing languages Daniel simply couldn’t translate. He didn’t have anything else to work with other than a few lines of on the base of the monument, and the symbols were unlike anything he’d ever seen. Either the inhabitants had been completely alien, or (more likely) they’d lacked a written language until after they were taken from Earth. Either way, the mystery haunted him. By the time he’d forced his attention to the briefing, it was too late to get lunch.

But Jack, his wonderful Jack, had known and planned for this. “I’m starving. Looks delicious. Thank you.”

“Sure. See you topside at 1730?”

“Yes.”

“Bye.”

It was the best turkey sandwich Daniel could remember eating.

* * *

  
Jack was exhausted, but somehow managed the energy to smile as he looked at Daniel’s sated, post-orgasmic bliss face. He loved that expression, and the goofy way his lover looked up at him.

Daniel muttered something, but Jack couldn’t make it out. “What?”

“Think that’s a new record.”

“Record for?”

“Time.”

“You’ve been _timing_?” Jack was more than a little concerned about his technique if Daniel felt the need to entertain himself by timing their lovemaking. Maybe it was time for another visit to that website Daniel kept bookmarked as “Cross-Cultural Ethno-Linguistic Models: A Comparative Approach.”

Jack thought they had a great sex life. Sure, he’d have preferred to have the recovery time he had twenty years ago, but they mixed things up sometimes, experimented with new tricks, in addition to their reliably good favorites. It had taken Jack a bit to get into the idea of bottoming, but Daniel hadn’t minded and anyway they’d been switching for a long time now. (And, of course, much fun could be had without penetration at all.) Neither of them was into anything extreme, and Jack had long figured they were on the same page. Now, though, he felt a cold fear creeping into his perspective.

“No,” said Daniel, closing his eyes. “Shadow’s moved a lot.”

This was true. It had to be close to noon by now. Saturday mornings were perfect for slow, lazy sex. “Oh,” Jack said, relieved that he could stop worrying.

Daniel forced his eyes open. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Just… had me worried for a second there, cariad. Thought we might be in a rut if you’re spicing things up by timing us.”

“No rut,” promised Daniel. “We outdid ourselves.”

“Yeah,” agreed Jack with a little grin. Sometimes, when they had nothing pressing to do, they liked to make sex last as long as possible, dragging it out, slow and sensuous. This had been one of those times.

“Don’t worry, Jack.” This was followed by a yawn. “Very satisfying sex life.”

“Glad we agree.” Was he ever!

Daniel scooted over and tucked himself against Jack’s body. Jack pulled his lover in a little closer. He loved times like this, when they could just laze around. Maybe they’d nap, maybe not. The point was that they had nothing to do and nowhere to be. It was just the two of them, together.

In less than a minute Daniel was asleep, and Jack wasn’t far behind.


	3. Part III

As far as Eddie could tell, there was no rhyme or reason behind the hobbies Teal’c decided to try. Sometimes he heard about one from someone at SGC, or saw something online or on TV that interested him. Eddie figured that making trying different hobbies into a hobby was pretty unique. Sam had pointed out that for most of his life Teal’c hadn’t enjoyed the freedom to try something just to see if he liked it, and Eddie thought their Jaffa friend was doing a pretty good job of making up for lost time.

You never knew what Teal’c would try next. A few weeks ago he’d been into whittling; before that he’d briefly tried birdwatching with one of the supply clerks. Most recently, he had decided it was time to try baking. Naturally, he asked Sam if she would provide him with guidance in this endeavor. Their first lesson hadn’t gone well. Eddie left just as it started, because he had to pick Bill Lee up at the airport. Bill’s flight was late, and by the time Eddie got back, he could barely recognize the kitchen.  

Despite the mess (both Sam and Teal’c insisted that nothing had actually blown up, despite appearances to the contrary), their cake was pretty good. After a couple more lessons, Teal’c was ready to show off his new skills.

Jack, never a man to turn down desserts, was getting a bit impatient. He and Daniel were on the couch while Teal’c put the finishing touches on his cake. Even Sam had been sent to join Eddie on the loveseat, because Teal’c was determined to do this all on his own.

Daniel reached out and grabbed his twitchy partner’s hand. “Jack. Stop it. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

Jack kept looking over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

“I’ve seen you wait motionless for ten hours lying on the ground, but you can’t wait fifteen minutes for cake?”

“It’s all about motivation,” replied Jack, as though this explained everything.

“How about Teal’c’s displeasure if you interrupt him?”

Jack slumped a little. “Good point.”

“So you must be leaving soon,” Eddie said.

“Friday night,” answered Jack. “I was afraid they wouldn’t finish the vinyl siding in time, but it’s supposed to be done tomorrow.”

“I’m still trying to convince him to ride a camel,” added Daniel.

Sam seemed to like that idea. “If you do, take pictures.”

“Camels and I don’t get along,” insisted Jack.

“I wonder whose fault that is,” said Daniel sarcastically.

“One particularly mean old camel, if you must know.”

Eddie exchanged amused grins with Sam. He loved the way her face scrunched up a little, trying to keep her laughter inside. But then, he loved her generally. Even more now that they lived together, once they worked out the details involved. It really was amazing how the right person could make even regrouting the bathroom more fun. Eddie had lost some things in that fire, but what he’d gained was even better.

Egypt didn’t hold much to interest him, but Eddie decided he liked the idea of escaping together for vacation. Even Sam needed a vacation sometimes. He thought it would be pretty easy to convince her to spend a week someplace warm in the middle of the winter.

Teal’c came out and announced, “The cake is ready.”

Jack, of course, led the way to the kitchen and made a beeline for the German chocolate cake, which Teal’c had displayed on Sam’s crystal platter. “Looks great, T. Let’s dig in.”

“Wait a minute,” said Sam. “I want to admire it.”

  
“For cryin’ out loud,” muttered Jack. “Cakes are for eating.”

Sam ignored him and the platter around. “German chocolate cake is hard to make look nice. You did a great job, Teal’c.”

“I am gratified that you approve.”

By this time, Eddie had to agree with Jack, who was casting somewhat longing glances at the knife. Less admiring, more eating. Eddie grabbed the stack of plates to hurry this process along.

* * *

  
Paul exited the gate and walked down the ramp feeling each and every one of his forty years. He hadn’t been so exhausted since he’d run the Boston Marathon some thirteen years earlier. All the same, he’d finally gotten to travel through the stargate, and his mission was a complete success, so it had been a good afternoon.

This just wasn’t what he’d imagined when General O’Neill casually asked, “Davis, do you play any sports?”

Paul had played soccer in college and had enjoyed the occasional game since, though he was admittedly past his prime. (The key was to play with others who were also past their prime; ideally even more so.) This answer pleased the general, who promptly announced that he had a goodwill mission for Paul: teach Jaffa kids to play soccer. Paul had his suspicions that O’Neill was using this as a handy way to give his diplomatic liaison gate travel experience in a safe way, but he was more than okay with that.

This was part of SGC’s ongoing effort to support the Free Jaffa. Teal’c had reported that Bra’tac was concerned over lack of recreational opportunities for young Jaffa, particularly the boys who were used to military training practically as soon as they could walk. The level of discontent and frustration worried Bra’tac. The physical outlets that the Jaffa traditionally used were evidently so tied up in indoctrination and solving all problems with fights that Bra’tac, hoping to find inspiration for new activities, thought of asking for Tau’ri options.

Paul was pretty sure that General O’Neill had personally donated a dozen baseball gloves, not to mention the bases, baseballs, and a couple of bats. Teal’c had to have spent an entire month’s pay on an assortment of toys including volleyball sets and a trampoline. Word had gotten out and SGC personnel started to bring in toys. Originally they’d dropped them off with Teal’c, but soon his quarters were full of footballs, jump ropes, kickballs, and so on. When SG-4 brought in bicycles, General O’Neill assigned the impromptu toy drive to a storage room.

Paul maintained close ties with his family, and his seven nieces and nephews had given him a lot of practice in the keeping-up-with-kids department. In fact he’d been on leave two weeks earlier and spent the time in Connecticut with his younger sister, brother-in-law, and twin nephews. Running around after perpetually energetic five-year-old boys took a lot out of a man. 

And yet teaching forty-three Jaffa kids to play soccer made his siblings’ offspring seem easy to keep up with. On the other hand, teaching soccer to Jaffa was less humiliating than his spectacular PlayStation loss to his oldest nephew (the low point of last Christmas), so there was something to be said for the low-tech route. Paul was exhausted and going to be sore for a few days, but at least he’d kept his dignity.

“I’m happy to report my mission was a success, sir,” he told O’Neill. “Though I wouldn’t recommend introducing the Jaffa to cleats.” He was going to have a nasty bruise on his left shin. Which, it occurred to him, would require a plausible explanation when Ray saw it. Paul was gaining a whole new respect for how active field personnel managed relationships when they couldn’t explain their injuries. And least he just had a bruise and sore muscles.

"Noted.”

“Master Bra’tac is very pleased with our response to his concerns over the children.” Paul liked Bra’tac. The elderly Jaffa was refreshingly straightforward, disdaining the kind of posturing that dominated most diplomacy. Also, unlike most leaders Paul had interacted with, Bra’tac wasn’t interested in power for its own sake. He was truly committed to maintaining a functioning Free Jaffa society, independent of the Goa’uld and working out their own destiny. Bra’tac had earned Paul’s complete respect.

“The strongest allies are those who help before a problem becomes a crisis,” said Teal’c. Paul hadn’t even noticed Teal’c come in, but that was not particularly unusual. Teal’c was exceedingly talented at stealth approaches, and from all Paul could tell didn’t even try to sneak up on people, at least most of the time. It was just natural for him. And a bit unnerving for everyone else.

“These kids have had pretty crazy lives,” said O’Neill. “They deserve some fun.”

Paul nodded. “I’m impressed with their grasp of teamwork.” This was not something that came naturally to many kids, at least human ones, but the Jaffa figured out the importance in soccer right away.

Teal’c gave a small, pleased smile. Paul figured this was more or less the equivalent of beaming with pride. It was, as always, hard to be sure with Teal’c. But he was happy, the general was happy, and Paul had finally gotten through the stargate. It had been a good day.

* * *

  
By the time they were in their third and final plane with Paris fading away beneath them, Daniel had convinced Jack to try a camel ride. (Jack would not, however, make promises about how long he was willing to remain on a camel.) This feat of persuasion had required explaining how much fun he’d had when he was a kid and rode camels, assurances that men had been riding camels for thousands of years without damage to sensitive parts of their anatomy, and a solemn promise that no embarrassing camel-riding pictures would see the light of day.

Sam was going to be very disappointed about that promise.

Daniel had done most of the planning for this trip, choosing places significant to him. Jack’s only request had been fitting in a nice dinner, which Daniel was happy to oblige by booking them on an upscale Nile dinner cruise. Otherwise, Jack’s preparations had been more of the security kind. He never went to a country without carefully reading the Department of State’s latest updates for American travelers.

“You’ve gotta hand it to the French,” said Jack. “They have some of the best airport pastries in the world.”

“And airport coffee.” He’d quite enjoyed that. It wasn’t the best coffee he’d ever tasted, but it was good, and superb by airport standards. Nothing made a layover better than a nice flaky croissant and a quality cup of coffee.

Jack stretched his feet out. “The extra leg room is nice.”

They were in the exit row seats, having traded seating assignments with a young couple who had a baby. Daniel liked the space and was mentally filing this away for future flights. “It is. I suspect that the people who design planes only fly first class.”

Despite the temptations of more space, neither he nor Jack were the type to spend twice as much on a plane ticket to upgrade. They were financially secure but not spendthrifts.

“Or they’re midgets,” suggested Jack.

“Your concept of vacation also means a vacation from political correctness, doesn’t it?”

“Pretty much. I have to be diplomatic at work, you know.”

“I know. You complain about it often enough.” This statement lost some of its impact when Daniel’s yawn cut off ‘enough.’

“You wanna try to catch a nap? I’ll stay awake,” offered Jack.

Daniel still didn’t sleep well on planes, but his odds of getting at least forty minutes or so improved considerably if he knew he was with someone who would stay awake. Why this was, he couldn’t quite say.

He nodded and leaned his seat back a little. “I’ll take some peanuts if they come by.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Ginger ale.”

“Got it.” Jack grabbed his book, ready to read more tales of an Alaskan bush pilot.

This flight was mercifully much smoother than their trans-Atlantic flight had been (though turbulence didn’t stop Jack from getting five solid hours of sleep; he was probably the only person on that flight who slept). Daniel drifted off and dreamt of sand, planes, and hieroglyphics. In his dream, there was an Egyptian glyph for ‘airplane.’

* * *

 

Jack was really starting to feel like a pack mule, but he didn’t have the heart to complain because Daniel was having such a grand time. His partner had expertly navigated them to the Khan el-Khalili market, which he promised wasn’t just a tourist attraction. Jack was starting to wonder if this market took up half of Cairo; it seemed unending. They’d headed to the western side, which Daniel said was less touristy. Meanwhile, Daniel continued to surprise the merchants by effortlessly negotiating prices with them in Arabic.

And wasn’t it funny that somewhere along the way Jack had started thinking of Daniel as his partner. At first he hadn’t liked the word; it reminded him of cops and lawyers. Now, halfway across the world, he realized that it fit. The two of them were a team. Currently a purchasing-and-toting team, but still a team.

If suitcase space wasn’t a concern, Daniel might have bought out a couple of the used book dealers. At least Daniel had foreseen this in advance and they’d left empty space when they packed. Still, getting everything home was going to be a tight fit. Daniel had picked up four books – one of which he’d been hoping to find for years – which were currently weighing Jack down. That was in addition to an array of spices, stuffed dates, and a hand-carved jewelry box for Cassie. They hadn’t even gotten thank-you-for-dogsitting presents for Alana and Kelly. Daniel was not in a hurry. He was enjoying himself, picking up things that brought up happy memories of his childhood.

Jack was wearing his only purchase, a baseball cap he picked up because he’d somehow forgotten to pack one.

“We came here on my sixth birthday,” said Daniel while he browsed yet another book stall. “The best birthday of my childhood. My maternal grandmother came to visit. She knew that she didn’t have very long, and she wanted to see the country where we spent so much time. I got to pick everything we did all day.”

“Sounds like fun,” agreed Jack. What kid wouldn’t like to be able to make those choices? It was one of the abilities all kids longed for about adulthood.

“I felt like the center of the world,” Daniel added quietly.

“Can’t ask for a better birthday present.”

“No, you can’t.”

After a moment of reflection, Daniel went back to examining the books, leaving Jack to hope that he’d been able to make Daniel feel like the center of the world again. He was, after all, the center of Jack’s world.

Unfortunately, Jack’s world was not a place where the Arabic language was welcome, which in Egypt was a bit of an issue. He knew a smattering of Arabic, but that was a language he’d tried very hard to forget after his stint in the Iraqi prison. Anyway, most of his Arabic wasn’t fit for use in polite company. Or much of any company, really. He could tell someone to go fuck themselves in three different dialects, but was really hoping not to need that on this trip.

In truth, just hearing Arabic spoken everywhere was a bit unnerving for him. He’d discovered this before they even checked into their hotel. All in all, his time in that Iraqi hellhole could’ve been worse. He’d been lucky enough – if you could call it that – in that the prison was reigning in some of its excesses, temporarily, while he was there. Apparently one too many prisoners had been tortured to death, a detail that bothered the prison administration only because dead prisoners gave up no intel. Still, it had been hell, and the constant Arabic chatter in Egypt, even if it was a different dialect, brought back some less than pleasant memories.

Not for Daniel, though. He bounded over to Jack with book number five. “This has an amazing collection of old sketches and photographs.”

“At this rate, we’re gonna be leaving our jeans behind.” Not to mention the bag was getting pretty full.

Daniel ignored that. “Kanafeh!” He dragged Jack over to a stall. “It’s a dessert. Filled pastry.”

Jack eyed the stuff for a minute. It didn’t look half bad. “I’ll try some.”

Daniel got to surprise yet another vendor with his perfect Arabic. He did so enjoy that.

Jack could taste the pistachio. “This is pretty good,” he told Daniel.

“I’ve always thought so.”

For a dessert, kanafeh wasn’t very sweet. Then again, Jack knew from his travels that many cultures just about gagged over how much sugar Americans put in their food. When he’d been stationed in Japan, early in his career, his mom had sent care packages which contained more sugar than the average Japanese person ate in a year.

“You seem… edgy,” said Daniel between bites.

Jack just shrugged.

“If you’re bored we can-”

“I’m fine, Daniel. Don’t worry about me.”

“You should know by now that telling me not to worry only makes me worry more.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“But there is something.”

Since Daniel wasn’t going to let this go, Jack nodded minutely. “All this Arabic reminds me a little of Iraq, that’s all.”

Predictably, his lover grew guilty at breakneck speed. “Damn, that never even occurred to me. Why didn’t you say something?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Still…”

“It’s okay, cariad. Really.” When Daniel didn’t look convinced, Jack added, “On an annoyance scale of one to ten, this doesn’t even hit two. But seeing you here, sharing it with you? Blows the happiness scale out of the water.”

Daniel gave him a stunning, _beaming_ smile. Oh yeah, totally worth it.  

* * *

  
When Daniel had decided he wanted to go to Aswan, Jack asked what was there besides the dam. He had to give his partner credit for _trying_ to be interested in the Unfinished Obelisk. What had gotten Jack’s attention, naturally, was not the significance of the largest known ancient obelisk; instead, he understood the personal significance of the Unfinished Obelisk as the site where Daniel’s parents had their first date. That had given it a special meaning to them, which they passed on to their son. “Without that obelisk, you might not exist,” his mom had once told him. Since this trip was about showing Jack the places special to him, places he’d never shared with anyone else, Daniel wanted to visit the Unfinished Obelisk.

Overlooking the obelisk, Daniel felt in a weird way like he was visiting an old friend. A very, very old and inanimate friend. He didn’t even try to explain that one. Instead he just said, “You have to admit it’s impressive.”

“It’d be more impressive without the big crack.”

Daniel just stared at his partner. It was a little hard to tell due to the shades (and didn’t Jack look sexy as hell!), but he seemed slightly contrite. “Is that some sort of archaeological sacrilege?” asked Jack after a moment.

“Practically.”

Jack obligingly looked over the obelisk again. “Pretty big project without power tools,” he conceded.

Well, he hadn’t brought Jack out to appreciate the archaeological importance anyway.

“I wonder if they ever wished for a crane.”

“Doubtful. You’re projecting your mindset back into ancient Egypt. They had no concept of a modern crane.”

“Oh.” Jack thought for a minute. In his own unique way, he was making a real effort to understand, and for Jack understanding meant relating the past in terms he could identify with. “Longer lunch breaks?”

Daniel managed a little nod through his laughter. “Entirely possible.”

“Makes me think of that weird video,” added Jack.

He’d thought of that himself on the quick flight from Cairo to Aswan. “All that knowledge.” Daniel was still berating the alternate version of himself for not finding a way to tell himself about what it was like to actually live in ancient Egypt. But he tried not to think about it much. All of them did. It was just too weird.

“It would suck to be…them.”

Daniel arched his eyebrows a bit, daring Jack to continue blithely.

“Well, you know. You’d probably have been okay. Not you, per se, but…” he leaned in, whispering, “Damn it, this is hard enough when I can use the right words!”

“No ESPN, you mean?” suggested Daniel.

“Exactly.”

By mutual silent agreement they moved past the strange topic of their alternate timelines. As Teal’c had declared when the rest of them were trying to make sense of it (Sam had actually started a flow chart), “Ours is the only timeline of consequence.”

Jack leaned in so their shoulders pressed together. “So, this is the place, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Only your family, Daniel, would have a first date here.”

“It’s a perfectly good place for a picnic.”

“Sure. I’m just saying it’s a tad unusual.”

It was hard to argue with that.

“Fits, though,” Jack decided.

They walked along, Daniel quietly making mental comparisons with some of the obelisks he’d seen offworld. None of them were bigger than this as far as he could recall.

“I bet you were the only kid really interested in this,” said Jack after they passed a family whose son was absorbed in his Gameboy. (The travesty!) “As opposed to, say, the camels.”

“Other kids thought it was interesting,” said Daniel, “but only for a few minutes. I remember feeling bad for all the people who worked hard to carve this.”

“Seems kind of a waste,” agreed Jack.

“It’s not, really. My father explained how much we can learn from it.”

“See, that’s what I’m saying. You were what, six?”

“Seven.”

“When I was seven, I would’ve looked at this for about two minutes, tops, and then I’d have been begging for a camel ride.” Jack considered that for a few seconds, then realized, “Of course, you’d probably ridden lots of camels by that point.”

“I had.”

“That explains why they like you.”

“Jack, you can’t make an entire species hate you just like that.”

“Already have,” replied Jack proudly. “Snakes.”

“That has no bearing on camels.”

It wasn’t the camels holding a grudge – that was all Jack. He’d suffered through his camel ride anyway. Halfway through, Daniel tuned out his partner’s muttered threats (and what anyone but Jack would consider whining) and simply enjoyed his own camel ride.

“You know how there was the Horse Whisperer?” asked Jack suddenly.

“Yes.”

“I wonder if there’s a Camel Whisperer.”

This, Daniel decided, was one of those instances where it was better not to ask what was going on in Jack’s head.

* * *

  
As soon as Jack and Daniel stepped through Alana’s front door to reclaim Zelda, the dog only had eyes for them. Alana and Kelly might as well have ceased to exist for all she cared. Even if Alana was slightly offended, she had to admire that kind of loyalty.

Daniel looked pretty much how Alana always felt after a long trip: exhausted, jet-lagged, relieved to finally be home, and ready to crash on the nearest available soft horizontal surface. She was impressed that he hadn’t sent Jack to pick up Zelda alone. Because Jack, in a feat that was nearly superhuman, appeared to be fresh and energetic.

“Is everything okay?” asked Jack.

Oops. Apparently she’d stared a little too long. “I’ve never seen anyone look so rested after a long flight.”

He just shrugged. “I slept on the plane.”

“He can sleep on any flight, no matter how much turbulence,” added Daniel, “and he barely gets jet lag.”

“Air Force,” said Jack, who seemed to think that was all the explanation anyone needed.

“I’m jealous,” declared Alana.

“Me too,” added Kelly as she came into the room, “but of the cool places you go. Any awards this time?”

“Nope. Just a vacation.” Jack held out a bag. “We brought souvenirs.”

Alana and Kelly each unwrapped an exquisitely carved wooden camel. “It’s beautiful,” said Alana. “Thank you.”

“Oh, cool!” exclaimed Kelly. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” replied Daniel the same time Jack said, “Sure.”

“You have great taste,” Alana told them.

“That’s Daniel. I just carried things.”

“Gram will love this,” mused Kelly.

She was right about that. “My mom’s always wanted to go to Egypt,” explained Alana.

Daniel perked up slightly at this. “It’s a lovely country with such a rich history and culture.” His enthusiasm was somewhat ruined by a yawn.

“It’s pretty safe for Americans,” added Jack. Alana suspected he was the type to research this before going anywhere. Then again, retired generals who were still involved in top-secret projects probably had to be pretty careful about such things.

“We can’t convince her to get on a plane,” said Kelly.

“Goodness knows we’ve tried.” Alana had spent years trying; after 9/11 she’d lost any progress she might have made.

“Not even to visit Aunt Kristie in LA.”

Which was why Kristie inevitably ended up coming to Colorado Springs for Christmas. Kelly was fascinated by her aunt’s ‘glamorous’ life as a TV producer and always wanted to go see her in LA. Alana, for her part, was happy to let her sister deal with earthquakes and three-hour traffic jams.

“Don’t get him started on planes,” warned Daniel. “It’s a topic near and dear to Jack’s heart.”

Jack gave his partner a slightly annoyed look. “Please. I have to get you home before you fall asleep against the wall.”

“Thanks again for watching Zelda,” said Daniel, ignoring Jack’s last remark altogether. “We really appreciate it.”

“Yeah. I read some horror stories about kennels, so I’d rather not go that route.” Jack scooped up the bag of dog food and her bed before handing Daniel the leash and bag of toys.

“Did she behave?” Daniel asked between yawns.

“Yes. We all get along well, except the cat of course.” Mocha objected on principle to the presence of a dog. He also objected to her habit of scaring away the birds he might have otherwise stalked.

“Naturally.”

“Thanks for the camel,” said Kelly.

“Sure. ‘Night ladies, and thanks again.” With that, Jack shepherded Daniel and Zelda out the door.

“Next driving lesson, I’ll have to ask if they rode camels,” declared Kelly. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“I think it sounds painful.” Alana tried not to crush her daughter’s dreams, though, so she added, “How about you ride a camel some day and tell me?”

* * *

  
Daniel had upgraded to a digital camera before their trip. It had been high time, really, but outside of work he didn’t take very many pictures so he hadn’t bothered for a while. Jack had been won over by the fact that they didn’t have to tote around rolls of film. Plus, he could check to make sure that the picture where it looked like he was petting the Sphinx came out just right. Now Daniel was online ordering prints; he made sure to order an extra copy of Jack’s Sphinx-petting photo to send to Aunt Kate.

Once the national news was done Jack shut off the TV. “Daniel?”

“Yes?”

“You know how you were talking about Camulus?”

“Yes,” answered Daniel, wondering where this was headed. On the way home from work he’d mentioned the temple to Camulus that SG-14 had found while he and Jack were in Egypt.

“I was thinking. He was a Celtic god, supposedly, right?”

“Yes.”

“The Irish were Celts.”

“I’m not sure past tense is entirely appropriate, but yes.” In the interest of seeing where Jack was going with this, Daniel didn’t delve into the persistence of Celtic cultural influences.

“Saint Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland. What if they weren’t regular snakes? What if he fought the Goa’uld?”

Daniel mulled this over. Many people thought that ‘snakes’ was a metaphoric reference to pagan religions. On the other hand, if pagan religions were in fact worshipping the Goa’uld, and assuming of course that at some point someone in ancient Ireland realized the parasitic nature of the Goa’uld… “It’s impossible to be sure without evidence, but you could be on to something.”

Jack was pleased with himself. Daniel had to admit, he was impressed as well. “It’s a very interesting theory, Jack. We’ll keep it in mind.” ‘We’ being his department, of course. “I’ll be sure to give you credit when we talk about it at work.”

At that his partner made a little face. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Daniel opened his mouth to protest that nobody at SGC bought into his dumb act for a minute and hadn’t for years, but Jack cut him off. “Not that one. The one where I still think it’s all lies and fairy tales.”

“Why does that matter?” he asked warily.

“Keeps the reports shorter.”

That was fair enough. Now it was Daniel’s turn to be a bit smug. “Still, I’ve been a good influence on you.”

“Yeah, well, this stuff saved our asses enough.” Then he hastened to add, “Don’t expect this to be a regular event.”

Daniel just chuckled. “So, what inspired this?”

His partner shrugged. “All that stuff about Camulus. I heard the whole snake-driving story a lot when I was a kid. It was one of my grandmother’s favorites.”

“You never cease to amaze, Jack.” That was one of the things Daniel loved about him.

“I try.”

“The ancient Irish would have had to recognize the true nature of the Goa’uld.”

“All it takes is a couple of people seeing one take a new host.”

“True,” mused Daniel. “It really is an interesting idea. Although it casts St. Patrick in a very different light.”

“Less preacher, more freedom fighter,” agreed Jack. “But it kinda makes sense. I mean, people have been mixing wars and religion for a long time.”

“And supposing he truly believed in Christianity,” an assumption Daniel went with because he had no reason to think otherwise, “the Goa’uld wouldn’t take kindly to someone trying to erode their power base.”

“Next thing you know, you’ve got a holy war.”

Daniel had never seen anything particularly holy about war. It was notably hypocritical in Christianity. The Assyrians, for example, had incorporated cruelty into their religion much more seamlessly. That was hard to do with such a nonviolent deity as Jesus. But anyone could twist religion for their own purposes. And he firmly believed that, holy or not, sending the Goa’uld packing was a worthy cause.

“If this is true,” he told Jack, “I’d be much more interested in celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.”

Jack’s laughter rang through the living room.

* * *

 

Generally, Jack didn’t bother watching when Daniel brought home a foreign film. Most of the time he just tuned those movies out. Once in a while Daniel would pick out a Spanish movie he thought Jack would like, and that was okay if nobody spoke too quickly. Daniel timed his German movie rentals to coincide with Jack’s trips to Washington, because Jack knew enough German to sometimes get interested but not enough to keep up with everything that was said, and Daniel got annoyed when he kept interrupting to ask for translations.

This time it was an Israeli movie rented for the express purpose of giving Daniel’s Hebrew some practice. Jack didn’t speak a word of Hebrew other than ‘shalom.’ His language skills had been learned out of necessity – the Air Force had even sent him to intensive Spanish classes – and the Israelis took care of their own military. With Mossad, Israel didn’t need much help in the Special Ops department. Jack had worked with a Mossad operative once, and that man was intense.

Jack sat back in his recliner with the latest _Newsweek_ and _National Geographic_ , letting the chattering of Daniel’s movie fade into background noise. It had been a good day. He’d finally caught up on his backlog of work from vacation, so he was back down to needing two of him instead of three. Then he’d taken Kelly out for her second night driving lesson, and that had gone well. Colorado Springs was down a squirrel now, but there were plenty more. Kelly handled the situation alright, which was the important thing. She’d fought her instinct to slam on the brakes and kept moving, just as she should.

“I want to go dancing,” announced Daniel suddenly. Jack looked up and found the movie frozen in some kind of club scene.

“I suck at dancing.” He had even before his knee problems.

“I don’t care.”

Suspecting this was going to take a while, Jack put down his magazine. “You don’t care if I embarrass you with my lack of dancing skills?”

“You won’t.”

Jack wasn’t so sure about this. “Daniel, I-”

“I didn’t date much,” continued Daniel. “And never anyone who would go dancing.”

“Never?” Okay, he couldn’t really picture Sarah Gardner dancing. But surely there must have been _someone_. There had been a college boyfriend – didn’t everyone go dancing in college?

“Never.”

“Oh,” said Jack. He could see dancing in his imminent future.

“Sam and I were supposed to go once, but then we went to Kelowna.”

Jack pushed those horrible memories away and focused on the positive. Maybe he could still get out of this by having Daniel go dancing with Sam. Better late than never, right?

“I want to know what it’s like.” Before Jack could even suggest Sam, Daniel added, “And from what I understand, it’s more fun because of the sexual energy. So don’t go trying to weasel out of this.”

With a resigned sigh, he agreed. “Alright. We’ll go dancing. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I found a decent-looking gay club.” Naturally, Daniel had done his research. “That way people won’t be staring at us.”

Jack had never been to a gay club. That sort of thing tended to happen when you didn’t realize you were bi until your early fifties. But he figured his partner had a point. Colorado Springs was not known for its open-minded, liberal population. Besides, once Daniel’s mind was made up, it was pretty much an exercise in futility to keep arguing with him.

“Can we at least go on a slow night?” he asked. That way, he could at least embarrass himself in front of less people.

“That’s fine. Thanks, cariad.”

Jack was going to remark that Daniel shouldn’t thank him just yet, pre-dancing embarrassment, but then changed his mind when he saw Daniel’s face. Daniel was thanking him for understanding why this mattered, not just for going along.

“Sure,” he replied. “I’ll pick up the ice packs.”

* * *

  
Sam caught up with Jack and Daniel in the parking lot. This wasn’t hard, because they were moving a bit slowly. Jack was favoring his weak knee, Daniel was favoring his weak foot, and they were both attempting to hide this behind a nonchalant, leisurely pace.

“How was dancing?” she asked.

“We might have overdone it,” admitted Daniel.

Sam wasn’t the least bit surprised. They both put in the time to stay in good shape, but a night of dancing worked a lot of different muscles and neither of them was known for doing anything halfway.

“It was a fun night,” Daniel continued, “but I’m not a very good dancer.”

Jack gave a little shrug. “What we lacked in talent, we made up for with enthusiasm.”

That could’ve been interesting to watch. “I’m sorry I missed it,” she told them.

From the expression on Jack’s face, Sam gathered that he was glad she hadn’t been there as an audience. He was probably afraid she would have brought her camera. One incident where she took a less-than-flattering picture of him, almost four years ago, and he’d been leery of her camera ever since. And she’d been helping Daniel photograph a collection of statues, not trying to get blackmail material. Sheesh. Sometimes, Jack could be a bit paranoid.

“You wouldn’t exactly have fit in with the clientele,” said Daniel diplomatically.

“I wouldn’t have to worry about creepy stalkers,” she countered. There were several good reasons she wasn’t into bars or clubs, and creeps who didn’t understand ‘no’ were high on the list.

Daniel conceded, “Probably not.”

“How’s that new gadget?” asked Jack as they approached the check-in. Evidently he didn’t want to discuss dancing in front of the SFs. Sam didn’t blame him a bit, especially with the somewhat sensitive gay club factor.

“Still frustrating.” In fact, she’d gone so far as to ask Jack to hold it the day before, thinking it could be a new form of Ancient technology. But the ‘invisible table’ SG-8 talked about failed to appear. It sounded like forcefield technology, which was highly interesting from both a physics and tactical standpoint. Sam was running out of ideas.

“And you checked to make sure the battery isn’t dead.”

“It’s hard to be sure with alien tech, but the power source seems operational. I even hooked it up to my mini naquadah generator.”

Daniel gave her a sympathetic look. He understood the frustration and the way she railed against giving up. They’d discussed it more than once over the years. It bothered Daniel when there was a language that he (or his staff) couldn’t translate, or a solitary monument where he couldn’t find any other sign of intelligent life. In those instances he felt as vexed and insignificant as she did when she couldn’t crack a technological puzzle.

Rationally, she knew that nobody could understand everything, especially when considering technology from planets that were generations ahead of Earth. That somehow failed to make her feel much better.

Her friends knew that she didn’t need platitudes, even well-intentioned ones. (Not long after she and Jack moved to a first-name basis, she got a bit snappish about one such remark. He’d yet to repeat the mistake.) She didn’t want to be reminded that nobody was omnipotent and that everyone had to leave something for those who followed. She particularly didn’t want to hear about Einstein’s failings.

Jack simply said, “Good luck.”

Daniel offered her a chance to vent if necessary by remarking, “My door is always open.” It wasn’t in a literal sense. Daniel actually had a system with his door. The wider open it was, the more willing he was to be disturbed. If the door was completely shut, he didn’t want to be interrupted except for something urgent. But Daniel always had time for the people he cared about, barring a life-or-death situation. 

 _That_ was what friends were for.


	4. Part IV

As soon as Jack started the truck, Styx came out of the stereo. Daniel reached over and ejected the CD. “I don’t understand how you can complain about Coldplay after this.”

“It’s not depressing.”

“I beg to differ,” retorted Daniel. Jack knew full well that, on a bad day, ‘Mr. Roboto’ was capable of sapping his will to live.

“And it’s not gonna lull me to sleep while I’m driving,” continued Jack, who really disliked Coldplay. Daniel didn’t even bother to bring _X &Y _in from his car anymore.

He flipped past a couple of CDs – you’d think a man who liked America would appreciate Coldplay – and settled on U2. That was a band they both enjoyed.

Jack turned the volume down a notch so they could hear each other better. “At least it’s not ABBA.”

Daniel nodded in heartfelt agreement. Teal’c’s ABBA phase was finally over, at least, but the memory was still raw. ‘Dancing Queen’ had been stuck in his head for three days. “I’m surprised the military hasn’t researched the use of ABBA as a weapon.”

“We better hope Ba’al never thinks of it,” replied Jack.

It was too early in the morning to being thinking about Ba’al, so he sipped his coffee and asked, “What do you think about having sushi tonight?”

“If you want.” Jack would take steak over sushi any day – he claimed he’d eaten more than enough sushi when he was stationed in Japan - but the new restaurant downtown was good enough that even he found their sushi tolerable. “We should see if Cassandra wants to come.”

“Good idea.” They liked taking Cassie to restaurants that were outside her college student budget.

“I’ll call her at lunch,” Jack said.

“You expect to have time?”

“Barring a crisis, in which case I don’t think scheduling anything for tonight would be a good idea. It’s a paperwork day.”

The car in front of them seemed not to notice that the light had turned green. Daniel wondered if it was one of those texting drivers, or just someone whose coffee hadn’t quite hit yet. Jack tapped the horn, which did the trick.

“I have paperwork too.” He sipped his coffee again. There was a lot to be said for letting Jack deal with the morning commute; Daniel got to relax and enjoy his coffee. “It’s time to update more subscriptions, and I have to finish my report on Asgard activities on Earth for the IOC.”

“I guess you can’t copy and paste from your book.”

“The IOC has very little interest in cultural influences without strategic or technological advantage,” agreed Daniel.

“I’m sure you’ll enlighten them anyway.”

“I try.”

“Your track record in that department is excellent.” Jack’s voice was light and amused. “If the Guinness Book of World Records had a category for educating the most military personnel about archaeology, history, and cultures, you’d win hands-down.” After a second, he added, “Except for the part where it’s top secret.”

“It always comes back to that.”

“Your books will be better anyway. You won’t have to share with the world’s longest fingernails.”

“Must you bring that up while I’m enjoying my coffee?”

“Sorry,” said Jack, but he didn’t sound terribly repentant.

Carpooling had its benefits, but also its drawbacks. Daniel tried to focus on his coffee and not the disgusting mental image his partner brought up.

* * *

 

Teal’c accompanied O’Neill as he they took his canine on her evening walk. This was a necessary task before any movie-viewing could take place. Since Teal’c hoped that he might dogsit the next time his friends went away for a long weekend, thereby gaining access to their home entertainment system, he considered it good dogwalking practice. Daniel Jackson remained in their home, waiting for the Chinese food to arrive.

Teal’c also took the opportunity to ask, “Have you ever seen a whale?”

Most of the Tau’ri seemed not to realize how remarkable the composition of their planet was. The vast amount of water had come as a great surprise to Teal’c when Daniel Jackson had first shown him a map. Recently, Colonel Davis had mentioned that one of his nieces was a great admirer of whales. Teal’c knew of such creatures – he found them fairly astonishing – but had resolved then to explore them in greater detail.

“Yeah,” said O’Neill. “When I was stationed at Tyndall, we went on a couple of whale watches. Tyndall’s in Florida.”

“‘Whale watches?’” he asked.

“You go out for a few hours on a cruise and hope you see whales. I saw humpbacks, and dolphins.”

Teal’c left the subject of dolphins for later. “That sounds like a memorable experience.”

“After all I’ve seen? Maybe. Not as much as for most people. One of the humpbacks was pretty friendly, though.”

Perhaps, Teal’c thought, he ought to consider a vacation to Florida in order to experience a whale watch of his own.

“Have you been to Sea World?” he asked. That seemed to be a major mode of exposure to whales. Conveniently, there was a Sea World in Florida.

“Once.” O’Neill did not elaborate, which often meant that it was a memory of his son about which he did not wish to speak. “I’ve never been sure it’s a good idea, though. People call them killer whales for a reason. You can train them and feed them and think they love you, but at the end of the day, a predator is a predator.”

Teal’c nodded in agreement. “True.” When he first learned that the Tau’ri kept wild predators, he had thought it quite foolish. Now he attributed it to their boundless curiosity. Nevertheless, he was not convinced it was a safe practice.

Dr. Lee had once explained to him the importance of captive breeding programs for endangered species. That he could see the utility of. The Tau’ri seemed to feel a significant amount of guilt when their actions pushed a species to the brink of extinction. Though rarely enough guilt to stop those actions. Teal’c found that perplexing and somewhat hypocritical.

“Every now and then someone will get hurt,” added O’Neill.

“Does that not apply to land predators as well?”

“Oh yes. Zelda, no.”

The dog stopped and looked at O’Neill, then back at the makeshift enclosure, her nose quivering. “That,” O’Neill informed Teal’c, “is a classic hunting pose.”

The two rabbits in the enclosure were crouching in the farthest corner. “I believe the rabbits recognize a hunting pose.” Once again, he mused that the Tau’ri kept peculiar pets.

“These are new,” explained O’Neill. To his canine he added, “And they are not for your entertainment. Come, Zelda.” He resumed walking, tugging the leash until Zelda had little choice but walking with them.

“So, whales. You could take leave on Earth and see some for yourself.”

It was a tempting prospect. However, he often felt it proper to spend his leave helping his people and his son. “Perhaps.”

His friend knew him well. “As long as you stayed in the US, I can probably get Rya’c clearance to stay overnight.”

He nodded. “Thank you. I believe he would enjoy the chance to see more of this world.”

“You’ve done a hell of a lot for this world, T, and you ask for next to nothing. It’s the least we can do. Besides, Rya’c’s proven himself.”

He had. Teal’c was proud that his son had fought the false gods from a young age. And yet Rya’c had the chance to be more than a warrior. It was all that he could wish for his son.

Additionally, he knew that O’Neill would never cease to mourn that he could no longer take his own son on vacations. Therefore he wished for Teal’c to enjoy spending time with Rya’c.

“I will research destinations,” he decided.

The delivery vehicle was pulling away from O’Neill and Daniel Jackson’s house as they approached. Another vehicle pulled into the driveway next door.

“Hi Alana,” said O’Neill. Teal’c recognized the name as that of the neighbor who sometimes looked after Zelda.

She waved with her keys. “Hi.”

“Alana, this is our buddy Teal’c. T, Alana Bucklin, our neighbor.”

He bowed his head in greeting. “I am pleased to meet you, Alana Bucklin.” He was also pleased that he no longer had to use the pseudonym ‘Murray.’ That was acceptable when he needed to offer a last name, but he preferred the name his parents had bestowed upon him.

“Nice to meet you, Teal’c.” She exaggerated the ‘c’ sound at the end of his name. “Not to be rude, but if I stay and chat we’ll be late for the vet appointment.”

“I do not want to cause your tardiness.”

O’Neill grinned. “Teal’c’s big on punctuality. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Zelda eagerly led them up the driveway. “Will she receive any Chinese?” asked Teal’c.

“Nope, just her regular dinner.”

Teal’c could not fathom such enthusiasm for dog food.

* * *

 

It was a beautiful day of the variety that rarely came in early October, so they were taking full advantage of the weather. Jack and Zelda were using the entire backyard for a marathon tug-of-war session (he’d adjusted his technique to accommodate his recent knee flare-up), while Daniel was sitting on his good lawn chair. He had a book detailing new finds from ancient Sumeria, but was reading in a relaxed manner, taking breaks to chat with Jack and generally living in the moment.

He heard Sam’s bike pull in and went around the side to wave her out back. She was clearly in a good mood, smiling and half bouncing along.

“Daniel! Jack!”

Jack meandered over, followed by a disappointed Zelda toting her toy. “Someone’s happy.”

“We’re engaged!” Sam thrust out her left hand, wiggling her fingers to show off her ring. Daniel knew precious little about jewelry, but he thought the square diamond was on the larger side. Not obscenely so; that wouldn’t be Sam’s style at all.

He gave her a hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

Eddie was a good man, one who loved Sam and fit with her. He made her happy, and Sam loved him dearly. He’d already earned himself a place among their SG-1 family. Daniel was truly delighted for Sam.

Jack gave Sam a friendly pat on the back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she said, grinning widely. “We’re leaning towards a small, relaxed ceremony in the spring. Nothing too big or fancy.”

“So, Colonel Hallowell?” asked Jack.

She shook her head. “I’m keeping my name. I’ve had it too long.”

“I wish Katz had done that. Now I’ve got two Dr. Ridmans.”

Some people had been heard to refer to them as ‘Dr. Ridman the chemist’ and ‘Dr. Ridman the geologist.’ Come to think of it, a lot of people had paired up at SGC over the years. It made sense, really; life was easier with a partner who had the same security clearance.

“This feels… right,” said Sam. “No hesitation. I just knew.”

“We could break out the good wine,” offered Jack. They usually kept a bottle on hand because Daniel liked it now and again to accompany a nice, seductive evening.

Sam shook her head. “I’ve got to drive. I’ve only told Cassie, so I want to go see Teal’c and call Mark and the kids.”

“Cassie must be excited,” said Daniel. She was very fond of Eddie and had long ago decided he was the one for Sam.

“She’s already looking at dresses.” Sam smiled. “Probably dresses which are too formal for what we’re thinking of. She’s looking forward to being my maid of honor.”

Daniel could see how Cassie would love that. Jack agreed with, “I’ll bet.”

Sam gazed down at her ring. “Maybe it’s because I never spent much time dreaming about my wedding, but all I really want is for no crisis to crop up right before it starts.”

“That seems reasonable,” declared Jack, “though I can’t make any promises.”

“We’ll turn our phones off during the ceremony,” offered Daniel.

She grinned. “Eddie gave me flowers, with a card that said Will you marry me? When I looked up, he was kneeling and holding out the ring. Then he told me that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me, through good and bad, scientific breakthroughs and Goa’uld scheming.”

As proposals went, that was pretty unique. Now so long as Goa’uld scheming didn’t happen during the wedding, they’d be all set. Daniel resolved not to open any particularly mysterious artifacts for a few days before the wedding, just in case.

* * *

 

Jack’s new plan was working beautifully. He went into work early on Mondays and Thursdays (Daniel was invariably still in bed) to get a few miles in on the elliptical. It was better for his knee than running on the treadmill (and why couldn’t Ba’al have fixed his damn knee completely, instead of just improving it a little?). It was too bad there was no pool, because he loved swimming, but the exercise facilities at the mountain were much more convenient than a gym. Not just because he was already there; he never had to worry about finding all the ellipticals occupied. If that happened, invariably the lowest-ranking person decided to move on. Rank hath its privileges.

Some people – namely Daniel – preferred to exercise at the end of the day. Jack had never understood this. At the end of the day he was tired and ready to go home. Much better to work out in the morning while he was fresh.

The combination of a desk job and advancing years – he hated to admit it, but he turned 55 this month – had made scheduling exercise more important. Sex and walking the dog alone didn’t cut it. He worked in weights (half the time on carpool days when he was hanging around waiting for Daniel to finish something), but extending his cardio time had his pants fitting a little better.

Sadly, they were all getting older. Well, sadly for everyone except Cassie, who would graduate in May, and hadn’t she just been a pre-teen a few years ago? Daniel had recently discovered a couple more gray hairs when he was shaving. Sam lately had bemoaned the percentage of time she listened to the oldies station. And she wasn’t even forty yet, so to Jack she had precious little to complain about. Siler had just reenlisted, which Jack could’ve sworn he did six months ago. George had complained of back pain last time they golfed.

It was highly unfair that Teal’c seemed unaffected by the passage of time.

Jack decided to focus on more pleasant things. For instance, interesting gadgets. He was considering whether or not to get an iPod when a couple of female airmen came in discussing Sam’s ring. The SGC grapevine remained in top form. That was how Jack learned it was a ‘princess-cut diamond,’ whatever that meant. He didn’t know and didn’t really care. Eddie was a good man, and Sam was happy, so Jack was glad for her. He’d mark the date on the calendar once they picked one.

Of course, they had to hope that things at SGC were nice and quiet that day. Sam really deserved an uninterrupted wedding.

Daniel had been quiet after Sam left the previous evening. The melancholy kind of quiet, not the deep-in-though quiet or the absorbed-in-reading/translating quiet. Eventually Jack found him spinning his ring and figured out what was going on. There really wasn’t anything he could do except kiss his partner and say, “Some day.”

They’d made each other next of kin, all those legal rights, but it was never the same as being married. That was what bothered Jack the most. Nor did he like the idea that somehow what he and Daniel shared was seen as second-class – which was naturally Daniel’s biggest complaint. They didn’t need to be married, but still, it would’ve been nice.

Jack tried not to dwell on things he couldn’t change. Not anymore. He figured it could’ve been a lot worse. He was convinced that retiring so they could be together openly was the best decision he’d made in years. It wasn’t worth taking the chance that the secrecy would doom their relationship. So, it wasn’t a perfect world, but Jack O’Neill was pleased with his life in it.

Besides, he’d just realized that comment about a princess-cut diamond might come in handy after all. It had been years since he’d been able to surprise Sam by knowing what she assumed he wouldn’t. She’d eventually caught on to the fact that, while she was the astrophysics expert, he had a decent grasp of basic physics, and then he’d run out of new technical terms to throw at her when she least expected it. Yep, this could be fun.

One of the airmen made a whispered comment about “Dr. Hallowell marrying into SGC royalty.” Ah, the young, naïve airmen. They so often forgot to consider acoustics when saying things they didn’t want their superiors to hear.

* * *

 

When Paul first reported for duty on Thursday morning, he was in a very good mood. The past weekend he’d finally felt secure in coming out to Sarah Gardner, with whom he’d developed a good friendship. She was not altogether surprised and insisted he bring Ray to her apartment for dinner. That had worked out beautifully. For one thing, defying all those stereotypes about British food, Sarah was a better-than-average cook. (This worked out particularly well because Paul was sadly lacking in culinary skills.) For another, she and Ray had hit it off immediately. They were the two people Paul cared most about in Colorado Springs, so it pleased him that they liked each other.

He glanced over at his new plaque on the way to his desk. It hung in all its highly-glossed glory, with an etched soccer ball and the words Many Thanks in Goa’uld (or so Paul was told by reliable sources.) This had been a gift from the Free Jaffa kids he’d taught to play soccer. According to Teal’c, it was customary for Jaffa children to express their gratitude to those from whom they learned a new skill. In lieu of traditional shows of thanks – all of which were quite impossible from another planet – the kids had made him a plaque. He was impressed with their craftsmanship.

Paul began his usual morning routine of checking his email. Just as he had gotten to the two emails from the Chinese International Oversight Committee delegate (a perpetual thorn in his side), someone knocked on his half-open door. “Come in,” he called, not altogether sorry to delay dealing with the Chinese delegate.

Lieutenant Phillips, the general’s aide, came in. “Colonel, we have a problem on M2Z-498. New Earth Eleven. They say we’re trying to cheat them, and want to discuss their grievances. The mining team is being held – unharmed, according to Major Eastman – pending this discussion. They’ve asked for you personally. General O’Neill wants you to gate out with SG-3 ASAP. He’s dealing with another situation right now.”

Paul logged out of his email. Perhaps he’d been a bit hasty about delaying that task; dealing with the Chinese delegate was frustrating, but not dangerous. “Did they say anything about how they believe we’re trying to cheat them?”

“No sir.”

He wasn’t terribly surprised. They considered it crucial that negotiations take place face-to-face. “Thank you. I’m on my way.”

Phillips nodded. “Sir.” She pivoted and departed, heels clicking slightly on the floor.

M2Z-498 was called New Earth by its inhabitants. Since SGC personnel had already encountered ten other worlds known as New Earth, it became New Earth Eleven for clarity’s sake. (And that wasn’t counting the four Terra Novas.) The planet had been abandoned by the Goa’uld several generations ago, once the naquadah mines dried up. Now M2Z-498 was a reasonably prosperous agricultural society, with one major problem.

The original population had been taken from across Europe in the Middle Ages. (Julia MacDonald had an as-yet unproven theory that the Goa’uld somehow learned about the Bubonic Plague and used it as a cover to abduct slaves. Paul was less than convinced.) Somehow or another horses had also been transported to M2Z-498. Unfortunately, not very many horses, and over time the inbreeding had grown to be a real problem. Their society was quite reliant on horses, despite some technological advances, so they needed a fresh gene pool.

This worked out rather well for SGC, particularly since a previously unknown mine had been discovered on M2Z-498. It was small, but SGC was in no position to be picky. A trade agreement had been signed, giving horses (from varying genetic lines) in exchange for naquadah mining rights. All of this had gone very smoothly.

Paul removed his file on M2Z-498 from its place in the filing cabinet and headed down to put on his gear. According to the plan in place for this eventuality, he would take only a Beretta. For one thing, diplomats who came bearing machine guns tended to frighten people and escalate situations. If the mining team had to be rescued by force, it would be done. However, it was preferable to resolve the situation peacefully and, ideally, salvage the mining treaty. Also, SG-3 would have more than enough firepower. Paul was perfectly capable of defending himself, but his job was to try to resolve the situation peacefully and let SG-3 worry about defending him.

All things considered, this was the most dangerous assignment Paul had ever been on. Joining the Air Force with a political science degree had marked him as a potential desk jockey from day one. After he demonstrated an aptitude for it, he settled in to a string of postings that posed no greater risk than a paper cut.

On the plus side, not many people at SGC went through a midlife crisis. There was really no need, with all these life-or-death situations.

* * *

 

Nothing especially drastic had happened at SGC for nearly three weeks. Therefore, in the SGC version of ‘when it rains, it pours,’ they had two major crises develop within an hour of each other, with a minor diplomatic crisis thrown in for good measure.

Paul Davis had, at least, managed to smooth over the diplomatic incident. It truly had been an honest misunderstanding. Nobody had thought to ask if the people of New Earth Eleven measured a ton the same way the US Air Force did. Another thing to add to future trade considerations. At least the situation had been resolved without violence. New Earth Eleven had reasonable leaders, and Davis promised them extra Clydesdales as a gesture of apology.

SG-28 had somehow (nobody was quite sure how) activated a test of some kind on P03-287. Unfortunately, the civilization which designed the test was gone. (Teal’c believed the planet might have been evacuated to flee the Goa’uld. Unfortunately, because telling the tale of this was forbidden by the Apophis, he didn’t have enough details to be sure.) When SG-28 failed to check in, Walter had dialed to check in on them. At least the radios were working. It had taken twenty-six hours to work out what SG-28 needed to do to pass the test. All of this would have been much easier if it wasn’t Daniel and Nyan trying to collaborate over the radio. Visual communication really would’ve sped things up, but the MALP couldn’t get in. It also would have been less stressful if they hadn’t been worried about the very real threat of dehydration and suffocation for SG-28.

Finally, SG-28 established their mastery of basic math, their ability to appreciate metaphors, and (to Teal’c’s displeasure) their musical talents. After that, they were released.

Sadly, the other crisis didn’t end nearly as well. Three out of the four members of SG-2 got caught in a very clever trap. Lieutenant Redd had managed to escape Ba’al’s Jaffa and return to SGC. While Daniel worked out the test with Nyan, Jack had been planning a rescue with Redd, SG-21, and just about every Marine on base.

Daniel and Nyan finished their brief summary of what happened to SG-28, and then it was just Daniel left in Jack’s office with him. They had been up for almost thirty-two hours; Daniel had taken only four twenty-minute naps. As much as he wanted to go crawl into their bed for about a week, neither of them was in any condition to drive. And while they could get an airman to drive them home, Daniel was in favor of the much closer beds on base.

“I’m ready to crash,” said Jack, rather unnecessarily.

“That makes two of us.”

“Lockdown quarters?”

“Let’s.”

As they made their way to the elevator, Jack asked, “Come to mine?”

Jack’s lockdown quarters weren’t half bad – the privileges of rank. However, Daniel had never joined him before. It was a concession they made to keeping their personal life private. Daniel gave his partner a questioning look.

“I’m tired,” said Jack, “it’s been a hell of a day – more than a day – and there’s no reason not to.” As the elevator doors closed he added, “It’s not like there’s a single person on base who doesn’t know about us. Besides, other couples share.”

That was true. Last time the base went into lockdown, the Drs. Ridman had shared quarters.

“Alright,” agreed Daniel, suspecting that Jack didn’t want to be alone. That couldn’t mean good news. Jack would tell him, but not in the elevator. Daniel, who’d spent most of the last twenty-six hours in the control room at the radio, had seen no less than seven people with various injuries coming through the gate once SG-2 had been rescued. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that it would be the last time at least one of them came through the gate.

They stripped down to underwear and t-shirts without saying a word. By that point, they were so tired that verbal economy was in order. The bed was small, but it held both of them. They had wanted to be close, after all.

When they were pressed together on the bed, Jack finally spoke. “Captain Hernandez didn’t make it. She died on the table.”

Daniel had built his entire career around words and communication, and yet there were no words – not in any language he knew – that seemed adequate when confronted with death. “Damn,” was all he could say. That was really all he needed to say, though. Jack knew.

“Yeah.”

Losing people always hit Jack hard. He managed, of course; he’d never have made general if he couldn’t cope. Everyone who stepped through the stargate did so because they wanted to, because they believed in the potential it held and wanted to protect Earth from the dangers it posed. Honestly, Daniel would have been concerned if death didn’t bother a leader. He equated an indifference to death with an indifference to life.

Daniel hadn’t known Captain Hernandez particularly well. He was aware, though, that she had an infectious laugh. He’d heard her in the mess hall on more than one occasion. Even when she was in the infirmary with a strange alien cold, she’d still had that cheerful, honest laugh that seemed to come straight from her soul.

“She had such a vibrant laugh,” he said. This was a custom they’d developed years ago: remembering not just death, but life. “Even in the infirmary.”

“Hell of an arm for grenades,” added Jack with clear admiration. “She hit the aft engine of a moving al’kesh.”

He had forgotten about that; it had earned her quite a lot of respect when she was fairly new to SGC.

“Bis vivit qui bene vivit,” whispered Daniel. It had become a sort of mantra for him, and he shared it with Jack now. He lives twice who lives well. He’d come across the quote in the course of research and it captured life at SGC for him. It was a small comfort to know, when good men and women died far too soon, that they had seen more than most people could even imagine.

“Never enough,” sighed Jack.

“I know.”

They fell asleep after that, setting aside their burdens for a time. Daniel’s last conscious thought was that he was glad he could be there for Jack, and he didn’t care at all what anyone thought or said about him sleeping in Jack’s quarters. He was where he needed to be.

* * *

 

It had been a windy day, so Alana’s trash can lids had once again gone missing. The garbage collectors never snapped down the lids on her trash cans, which meant that strong gusts of winds sent the lids hither and yon. She really needed to get new trash cans, but never seemed to remember until she got home on a windy day.

A quick scan around revealed one of the wayward lids up on Jack and Daniel’s front steps. She couldn’t see the other one, although she did see her cat prancing home with a still-squirming mouse in his mouth. Oh joy.

Her neighbor’s truck pulled into the driveway while she was retrieving the lid. They were intent in their conversation as they got out.

“Daniel,” said Jack, “I told you I don’t want to celebrate my birthday.”

Alana had never understood that. She figured that if she had to get older, she might as well get some benefits out of it.

“Fine. We won’t celebrate. We’ll commiserate.”

That just didn’t have the same ring to it.

“That would require both of us becoming eligible for the senior discount.”

Ouch. Alana wasn’t looking forward to that birthday, although she had a decade before she needed to worry about it. She waved with the hand not holding her trash can lid.

“Compensate, then,” Daniel decided. “After the last few days, we deserve it. Hi Alana.”

Jack considered this. “The same place as last year?”

“Yes. You loved the steak and lobster.”

“I guess that’s reasonable compensation.”

Alana held up her trash can lid. “Don’t mind me. These went renegade again.”

“You’ll have to excuse Jack’s sulking,” said Daniel.

She wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. Jack went the nonverbal look, shooting his partner a glare. Finally Alana said, “I’ve been known to pout about birthdays myself.” This was true. Actually, ‘pouting’ hadn’t quite covered her reaction to turning forty. “So, happy birthday and my condolences.”

“Thanks,” said Jack. “I’ve had worse.”

Alana knew better than to ask for details. She’d learned years ago that when her father or his colleagues said they’d experienced worse, it was rarely a subject for public discussion. This, she reasoned, would apply to highly classified military work just as much as the FBI – maybe even more so.

“I’m going to write myself a note to get new cans so my trash can lids stop flying around the neighborhood.”

“Not a problem,” Jack told her.

“It is for me. Now I have to go look for the other one.”

Daniel chuckled. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

As she walked off in search of her missing lid, Alana mused that steak and lobster was a fine way to soften the blow of getting older.

* * *

 

Sam didn’t really care about baseball, but attending Jack’s annual World Series party to watch the first game had somehow become a tradition. She and Daniel sometimes entertained themselves with snarky remarks, which was great fun. Also, it was a chance to get cannoli. This year, Jack was particularly excited because the Colorado Rockies were in the World Series. (He had tickets for the third game, in Denver, and could hardly wait.)

She and Eddie were the first to arrive. Eddie wasn’t especially interested in baseball either; he liked it alright, but the only sport he followed closely was basketball. He’d been won over by tales of the generous spread of snack food Jack always provided.

Eddie wasn’t disappointed. They followed Daniel back into the kitchen, where Jack was dumping two bags of Chex Mix into a bowl. There was an extra bag still on the counter. That was in addition to the chips – classic potato chips and Doritos – the pretzels, the Cheetos, and the white cheddar popcorn.

Jack didn’t believe fruits or vegetables had a place at a World Series party. There were cheese and crackers this year, which had to be Daniel’s doing since it included fancy goat cheese.

“Sweet stuff’s in the living room already,” said Jack.

“He actually found sugar cookies decorated with Rockies colors,” added Daniel.

“Capitalism at its finest.”

“Cannoli?” asked Sam. She’d never even attempted to make cannoli, preferring to leave it to the professionals.

Jack nodded. “Help yourself.” He took the Chex Mix and pretzels out to the living room.

“Can I help?” she offered.

“If you don’t mind getting the drinks out,” said Daniel. “They’re in the refrigerator.”

Their fridge was packed with cans of soda and bottles of beer. Sam started pulling them out, handing them to Eddie to put on the counter.

“How many people are you expecting?” asked Eddie.

“You two,” replied Jack on his way back, “Teal’c, George, Warren, Davis, Brightman, Garcia, and MacDonald.”

“Julia wants to understand what all the fuss is about,” Daniel explained.

Eddie was obviously pleased with the ratio of guests to food. “Nice spread. I didn’t know Olivia liked baseball.”

Sam so rarely heard their CMO’s first name that it took her a second to realize that he was speaking about Dr. Brightman. She was a good doctor, but Sam had never made a personal connection with her. Maybe because it would feel too much like trying to replace Janet, who was irreplaceable.

“I’m not sure she does,” admitted Jack. “There was something about escaping her husband’s latest home renovation effort.”

Sam asked, “Colonel Fisk isn’t coming this year?” He loved baseball and had been a regular at Jack’s World Series parties for the last few years.

“Nope. Parents’ 50th anniversary party.”

The doorbell rang while Daniel was slicing cheddar cheese and Jack was trying to corral the Doritos. “Would you get that, please?” asked Daniel.

When Sam opened the door, she found a slightly harried-looking General Hammond on the porch and a tense Colonel Davis walking up the driveway. She suspected that Davis was unused to the more liberal view of fraternization which prevailed at SGC. It was true that only higher ranked officers were invited all the same. Dr. Brightman was the only Air Force officer who wasn’t at least a lieutenant colonel; she was a major, but then she held rank as CMO. Still, this kind of informal gathering wasn’t commonly thrown by Pentagon generals.

On the other hand, at last year’s World Series party Sam, Eddie and Daniel had come up with team names for an intergalactic baseball league (admittedly after a few beers), and you couldn’t do that with just anyone.

“Come in,” she said. Then, pulling Davis aside, she quietly reassured him, “You can relax. This isn’t a test or anything. We’re here to watch the game and fill up on junk food.”

That seemed to help at least a little. Davis flashed her a grateful smile and followed Eddie into the living room. Teal’c’s car pulled in along the side of the road, so Sam waited to let him in as well.

Meanwhile, Jack had greeted Davis and was catching up with Hammond. “So, how’s it going?”

“Don’t let anyone talk you into chaperoning a seventh-grade field trip,” replied Hammond. “If the teachers find out you’re a retired general, they decide you’re a perfect candidate to deal with the class troublemaker.”

“That bad?”

“Worse. And definitely not what I had in mind for spending more time with my granddaughters.”

Sam thought it would be a bit awkward to burst out laughing at the mental images of General Hammond trying to keep a group of rowdy preteens in line. She kept her face turned away, looking out the door. Teal’c, who was walking up the driveway, later asked if his driving had been particularly amusing.

* * *

 

A good percentage of base personnel were unhappy that the Rockies hadn’t won a single World Series game. Jack was foremost among the disappointed, though he claimed that as a Cubs fan he was used to disappointment. Xavier Rikes, who’d grown up in Boston as a diehard Red Sox fan, was the happiest man at SGC. Daniel had watched with amusement as Xavier attempted to convince Julia MacDonald that baseball was the most perfect sport humans had come up with thus far.

The World Series was quickly overshadowed by the presidential election, if nothing else because people (other than Xavier) wanted to forget the loss. On Tuesday, Daniel and Jack headed straight to the polls from work.

“If people vote the way they talk, Hayes will be getting a lot of votes from SGC,” said Daniel.

“He’s okay, for a politician. We could do worse.”

“It helps that Vice President Bakerson is a decent human being.”

“Yeah. I didn’t vote for Hayes last time because of Kinsey.” Jack spat out the name.

This election they both planned to vote for Hayes. His handling of the stargate program was reasonable. He didn’t try to micromanage it or, worse, want to use it to rule the galaxy.

Most people seemed to assume that Jack was a diehard Republican and Daniel a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat. In fact they shared an unwillingness to commit to a political party. Neither of them wanted a party interfering with their own decisions – they were fully capable of making up their own minds, thank you very much. And while it was true that they didn’t always agree on political issues, the stargate had come to dominate their political reasoning, as so many other aspects of their lives.

Happily for everyone, Paul Davis had been able to explain the Electoral College to Teal’c. While their Jaffa friend still thought it was needlessly complicated, most Americans did too, and this saved the rest of them from once again trying to make sense of the system for Teal’c. It freed up a surprising amount of time.

“Dr. Ovcharenko is fascinated by American elections.” Before coming to SGC, the Russian archaeologist had what Daniel considered shockingly little international experience. (He could get away with that because his area of specialty was medieval Slavic culture.)

“That actually explains a couple of things.”

“Such as?”

“Why he was asking SG-2 about campaign finance reform. Warren was highly amused. Also, I’ve heard from a couple people that he’s been asking if being a governor or a senator is better training for the presidency.”

“Oh yes,” said Daniel. “That sparked quite a debate after our department meeting yesterday. Boris was actually taking notes.”

Jack shook his head slightly. “He needs a hobby.”

“I think he’s just found one.”

“Another hobby.”

“So he can complain about the Rockies losing with the rest of you?”

“Exactly,” agreed Jack. “Now you get it.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get it,” countered Daniel. But that was alright. He didn’t really need to.


	5. Part V

Whenever someone came through the stargate limping, Jack’s mood went straight downhill. This time it was Teal’c, favoring his left leg. Jack looked closer and spotted what looked like a small arrow stuck in the outside of his friend’s thigh.

Damn, the week had been going so well. Hayes won re-election, which meant no unpleasant changes to SGC policy would be forthcoming; the weather was unusually warm for early November; Jack won a $50 Applebee’s gift card in a raffle that Cassie’s chorus group did as a fundraiser; and SG-2 captured a shiny new al-kesh from Telchak’s Jaffa.

But no, the week had to end with Teal’c taking an arrow to the thigh. There were many worse places to get shot, of course: head, chest, kneecap, and, as Major Roth had learned the hard way, the ass. (Poor Roth was still sitting very carefully almost a month later.) It could have been worse for Teal’c, but getting shot was never pleasant. Jack knew this from multiple personal experiences.

Colonel Dinsmore was the last member of SG-28 through, and she yelled, “Shut it down!” Once the gate was off and iris firmly closed, she reported, “One injured. The locals seemed to assume we were slavers, sir.”

“We were not given time to persuade them otherwise,” added Nyan regretfully.

“Teal’c’s been shot,” said Dinsmore, rather unnecessarily. Medics were already trying to convince him to take a gurney to the infirmary. Teal’c relented only when they reminded him that further exertion would make his wound worse and consequently increase the time needed to heal.

“It is a minor wound,” insisted Teal’c.

“Maybe,” said Jack, who didn’t want to get into that debate with Teal’c again. Unless Teal’c was just about at death’s door, he considered an injury minor. “But we’ll let Brightman take care of it so it stays that way.”

His Jaffa friend nodded slightly and added, “They were defending their freedom.” Then the medics carried him off. Jack would go visit in a little bit, once Brightman had a chance to do her thing. She was very clear about the fact that she didn’t want Jack or anyone else getting in the way when she was treating someone.

If anyone could understand the importance of defending their freedom, it was Teal’c. He clearly didn’t blame the people who shot him for shooting perceived slavers. Anyone else – like Jack – would gripe about the automatic assumption that they were slave traders, but Teal’c had spent too many years in servitude to hold any kind of grudge about this.

Captain Lenhart, the fourth member of SG-28, spoke up. “I estimate they were about a thousand years behind us technologically, sir.”

Jack nodded. “Anything else?”

“We didn’t see much besides a huge field before they started yelling. The shooting started about two minutes after that.” Dinsmore paused, then added, “I recommend against returning, sir.”

Jack thought this a sensible conclusion. “I concur.”

“There was a magnificent building in the distance,” Nyan informed him.

Jack suspected that Nyan might go commiserate with Daniel about violence and misunderstandings getting in the way of archaeology. “Alright,” he said, “We’ll debrief at 1500. That should give Brightman enough time to get Teal’c settled.”

The remaining members of SG-28 nodded and headed out. Jack figured he ought to wait at least half an hour before going to check on Teal’c. Brightman really did get testy if she felt crowded. Also, she was one of the few people who acted less formal since Jack’s retirement. Therefore, she had no qualms about letting him know just how annoyed she was.

He had barely stepped within sight of Lieutenant Phillips when she informed him, “Colonel Davis is waiting in your office, sir, and Senator Foss wants you to call at your earliest convenience.” Phillips was a good aide – he should to look into a promotion, it seemed to him she had the time in grade – and dutifully pretended not to notice Jack’s grimace.

‘At your earliest convenience’ was politician-speak for ‘you should drop everything when I call you.’ Foss was continually looking for ways to cut spending, and he no doubt had come up with a new round of objections to SGC’s budget. Jack understood the importance of a balanced budget. He’d be a happy man the day (soon) he and Daniel paid off the mortgage and didn’t owe anyone a cent. However, with at least three System Lords still out there, Jack thought that scrimping on Earth’s best defense was shortsighted in the extreme. Foss, in his opinion, would be better off convincing his colleagues to stop throwing money at their pet projects and do something useful like close corporate tax loopholes.

And then, of course, an unscheduled meeting with Davis could only mean some kind of diplomatic crisis had cropped up.

“The good news is that nobody is mortally wounded,” he announced to his diplomatic liaison. “I’m guessing you have the bad news.”

“Ah, yes sir. The Russians have lodged an official complaint because we haven’t given them the blueprints to manufacture zats.”

Jack sat and gestured for Davis to do the same. “Our agreement with the Russians obligates us to share technology, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“And we gave the Russians several Goa’uld zats years ago.”

“Yes sir.”

“So haven’t we fulfilled our end of the deal on zats?”

“Strictly speaking, yes.”

“Then they’re complaining because…”

“I suspect they want us to offer them something of lesser value as a compromise.”

“I hate politics,” grumbled Jack.

“I know, sir,” replied Davis, who immediately looked like he wanted to crawl under Jack’s desk until he could figure out how to unsay his comment.

“It’s a well-known fact.” When Davis failed to look reassured, Jack added, “Colonel, if the Pentagon had tried to send me a yes-man, I’d have found a way to refuse. I don’t need my ego pandered to; I need people who can think for themselves.”

Clearly, Davis had spent too long dealing with politicians and generals who wanted to be politicians. Jack had known this for a while but never had an opportunity to address the issue. At the World Series Party, poor Davis had looked like someone threw him in with piranhas.

Thankfully the colonel took Jack at his word and moved on. “Sir, I suspect that the Russians want us to compromise by giving them _some_ information about making zats, if we won’t give the entire blueprint.”

“That makes sense.” Feeling less kind towards Russians by the moment, Jack could only hope he had a little time before running into Lukov or his team.

“But I’ve come up with a few slightly less sensitive alternatives.”

Jack took the proffered list. “Options are good.”

All the same, while he looked at Davis’s list – which didn’t contain one topic he really wanted to share with the Russians – Jack wished for a moment he could swap places with Teal’c and only have to deal with a wounded leg.

* * *

 

Jack had been hard at work typing and retyping on his laptop, so deep in thought that he was uncharacteristically silent. Daniel was now quite used to the little noises Jack made, and without those he forgot Jack was even in the room. But he was, sitting in the living room with the computer screen reflected back onto his reading glasses.

At last Jack relocated to the couch, bringing his laptop with him. “Would you look at this?”

Daniel saved his own work and accepted his partner’s computer. “What is it?”

“My response to recent events.”

Ah. That would be the reports about sexual harassment and assault going unpunished in the military. The latest case involved the Navy, but nobody had any illusions that the Air Force was vastly superior in this area.

Jack, bless him, was outraged. He would be first to admit that he was a pragmatist, not an idealist, but he insisted that the military had a duty to protect its members from danger within their own ranks. After reading a news report in disgust, he swore that he didn’t care how vital someone was to SGC, _nobody_ was vital enough to ignore rape. And he meant it.

The memo was shorter than Daniel would’ve guessed, considering how long Jack had been working on it. It hit all the salient points – recent events highlighting the need for vigilance, the importance of a work environment free of harassment and assault, and the need for allegations to be carefully investigated. Jack concluded with, _If anyone feels that their direct superior has not taken immediate action upon being informed of sexual harassment or abuse, or that their direct superior will fail to do so, please see me and I will personally attend to the matter._

Daniel changed a couple of adjectives and swapped a comma for a semicolon but made no major changes. “This looks good.”

Jack saved the file with Daniel’s edits. “I like to think that we’re better than average, but after these reports I wonder if I’m just fooling myself.”

Not having any experience to compare to, Daniel had nothing to say about that. Some two years ago one of SGC’s lieutenants had been dishonorably discharged when a couple of female airmen came forward with stories of sexual harassment. Hammond had never tolerated such behavior either. “I think it helps that people know you won’t look the other way.”

“I hope it does, and they do.”

“They do. I’ve heard new recruits being told that you can be demanding, but you’re fair and you look out for your people. But you can always ask Teal’c.” Their friend was a fountain of overheard information because few people took into account his superior Jaffa hearing. Daniel suspected Teal’c liked things that way.

“And it’s not just me,” added Jack.

This was true. In his own department, Daniel would not for one second stand by while his people were hurt. The same was true of Sam, who was also a bit maternal about a few of her younger scientists. Colonel Warren, the senior SG team leader, was a good man who wouldn’t put up with any untoward behavior. Walter looked out for the enlisted personnel, as did Siler.

“It’s my understanding that a huge part of the problem is a culture that accepts sexual abuse,” Daniel told his partner. “We don’t have that at SGC.”

“We damned well better not.”

This was part of what made Jack a good leader. He cared about results, but he wouldn’t sacrifice his peoples’ wellbeing in order to get them.

“When you take the oath, you swear to protect and serve,” stated Jack. “It’s supposed to be the civilians we’re protecting, not the sex offenders.”

Daniel started to gently knead the tension out of his partner’s neck. “You’re a wonderful leader, Jack O’Neill.”

“I try.”

There was no instant fix, no way to entirely solve the problem of harassment and abuse. Still, Daniel thought that if more people felt the way Jack did, it would be a lot of progress in the right direction.

* * *

 

Teal’c had just finished his morning meditation (modified to accommodate his injury) when someone knocked on his door. Daniel Jackson preferred to visit after work as he was not a ‘morning person.’ Colonel Dinsmore and Captain Lenhart were visiting family members out of state. Nyan was offworld with SG-14. Therefore, Teal’c expected his visitor was either O’Neill or Samantha Carter.

“Come in,” he called. It was his usual practice to answer the door, but his leg injury made that difficult.

O’Neill entered carrying a Barnes & Noble bag. “Do you have any idea how many Florida guide books there are?”

“No,” replied Teal’c. Perhaps he should have looked into that. Living in a secure, top-secret military base made internet purchases quite difficult. On the rare occasions when Teal’c purchased goods online, he had them mailed to O’Neill and Daniel Jackson’s home.

“I got you three.” O’Neill handed him the Barnes & Noble bag. “And here’s your debit card.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. How goes the vacation planning?”

“It is in the early stages. I am unfamiliar with the process.” He examined the guide books O’Neill had selected. They appeared to be a wealth of information.

“Those should help. But you can always ask.”

“Samantha Carter recommended several websites to compare airplane ticket prices.” He had been surprised by the number of airlines operating flights just within the United States of America. “Do you have any more advice?”

“Nothing in particular. Just do what you want to do, even if what you want to do is nothing.”

Teal’c considered that for a moment. He did not want to do nothing at all, but his friend offered a reasonable suggestion. There were some individuals, according to his internet research, who seemed to schedule every hour of their vacation. He did not wish to be so constrained. Furthermore, he wanted to ensure sufficient time for activities that Rya’c wanted. “A wise suggestion.”

“This vacation planning is a good project. The kind Brightman won’t object to.”

“Such endeavors are difficult to find.”

“Don’t I know it. Have you told Rya’c yet?”

Teal’c nodded. “Once you secured permission for his overnight travel, I asked if he would like to accompany me.” He was grateful for O’Neill’s efforts on his son’s behalf. “Rya’c is eager to see Florida.”

“You’ll have a blast,” promised O’Neill.

Teal’c had never understood why his Tau’ri friends equated a pleasurable experience with an explosion, but he agreed with the sentiment that he and Rya’c would enjoy their vacation. “So long as no actual blasts are involved.”

“Right.” O’Neill’s facial expression was one of mild amusement. “I checked with Dr. Andrews and he said you’re free to leave the mountain tonight as long as we’re careful. Unless Brightman overrules him, of course, but she probably won’t.”

“Do you have a destination in mind?”

“I won that Applebee’s gift card from Cassie’s raffle. Daniel and I are going out to use it, and we thought you’d like a change of scenery. Plus we know how much you like their garlic mashed potatoes.”

“I would be pleased to join you.” Teal’c was grateful that he no longer needed to carry a symbiote, but he did miss the speed at which he used to heal. He had adjusted, and now felt it preferable that he did not have to provide sanctuary for a false god. All the same, he was not pleased with his extended recovery.

However, he very much enjoyed Applebee’s garlic mashed potatoes. The mess hall served garlic mashed potatoes on occasion, but those at Applebee’s were vastly superior.

“We’ll come by at 1800,” said O’Neill. “Barring emergencies, of course.”

“Naturally.” They might also be slightly delayed if Daniel Jackson was deeply engaged in his work and had to be coaxed away from it.

O’Neill checked his watch. “I’ve got a video conference in fifteen minutes. Your morning’s gonna be more fun than mine as long as the painkillers are working.”

“They are.”

“See you later.”

After his friend left, Teal’c picked up the first of the guide books. Wound notwithstanding, planning a vacation with his son was indeed more pleasant than engaging with the complicated American bureaucracy. That ponderous system was an aspect of Tau’ri governance that he most definitely did not want for the Free Jaffa.

* * *

 

As soon as they stepped out of the truck, it was obvious that something had gone terribly wrong while they were at work. The air reeked of skunk. Daniel thought he knew where this was going; as soon as he was in the house he promptly went online to look up effective ways to remove skunk odor from a dog.

Sure enough, Jack came in from out back with a scowl. “You know how tomato juice is supposed to get rid of the stench? It doesn’t. And that dog isn’t going anywhere but the tub until she’s clean.”

It could have been worse. At least _they_ hadn’t been sprayed by the skunk. Seven years had passed since SG-1’s unfortunate encounter with a large skunk-like creature offworld, but that wasn’t nearly enough time to forget the stench.

“You were the one who wanted a dog,” Daniel reminded.

“Yeah. Skunks happen.”

He took that to mean that Jack had known about the potential for this very situation and decided having a dog was worth it. They’d had Zelda almost a year and Daniel realized the house would seem empty without her. She was a very good dog, always happy to spend time with them, and that unswerving devotion enriched their lives.

He supposed nothing was perfect and settled on a remedy that came highly recommended. “We should give her a bath with a quart of 3% hydrogen peroxide, a quarter cup of baking soda, and a teaspoon of liquid hand soap.”

“Do you think we can substitute rubbing alcohol for the peroxide?”

“Probably not, but I don’t think we have that much baking soda either.” They didn’t really bake anything besides boxed brownie mixes, but did use baking soda sometimes for cleaning thanks to Sam, who was a strong proponent of the stuff. Daniel wondered if she knew about this particular use for baking soda.

Cassie had decided skunks were adorable the moment she saw one, and in all her years on Earth nobody had been able to convince her otherwise. Clearly, her dog hadn’t made a skunk angry enough to spray. Daniel was more than a little envious.

He realized that he should call dibs on getting the supplies because it would let him flee the house. They’d let in some of the hideous odor just by opening the door, and then Jack had gone to check on Zelda. He wondered if they could also use baking soda to deodorize the house.

He and Jack said, “I’ll go,” at the exact same moment.

“Rock Paper Scissors?” asked Jack.

“On three.”

“One, two, three.”

Daniel held his hand out flat for paper, and was lucky enough that Jack had opted for rock. Before his partner could concoct an objection, Daniel grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

* * *

 

Jack woke up to the sound of a steady rain hitting the roof. He hoped it would get rid of the lingering smell of skunk outside. They’d been subjected to that for long enough.

His alarm would go off in two minutes, so he shut it off and eased himself out of bed. Daniel didn’t even stir, as usual. The man slept so soundly that on their first overnight mission (was that really a decade ago?) Jack had checked to make sure his archaeologist was still breathing.

Another Monday. This was a short week, though, because of Thanksgiving. Well, it was supposed to be a short week. At SGC you never knew for sure. Over the years Jack had spent Christmas in an alien dungeon, Easter rescuing SG-4, Thanksgiving in lockdown hoping they didn’t all die from a virus, another Easter fighting Anubis’s goons in a cold marsh, the Fourth of July after his promotion waiting anxiously for SG-1 to check in, and New Year’s Eve planning to take out one of Ba’al’s fortresses. And those were just the major holidays.

He really could’ve gone for some boxing that morning, but Teal’c’s leg was still recovering. Fortunately, the arrow hadn’t pierced any vital arteries and it was a shallow wound, but Dr. Brightman was taking every precaution. She did predict a full recovery, at least. Teal’c might not have Junior speeding things up, but his body was still remarkably resilient. Jack envied that.

“What the hell?” he hissed seconds after his toe made contact with a hard object that hadn’t been there before. He picked up the offending item. It was one of Daniel’s innumerable reference books.

Jack put the book on his still-sleeping partner’s nightstand. Daniel had probably been reading until his eyes wouldn’t stay open. Again. He was hard at work writing a chapter of his book about the Asgard. When Jack went to bed the night before, Daniel was comparing key sections of Thor’s old reports to Norse mythology.

Longer ago than he cared to admit, in elementary school, Jack had been friends with Carl Larsen, who lived a few houses down from the O’Neills. Carl’s grandmother lived with them, and she liked to pass on old Scandinavian myths and folk tales. In fact, she liked telling them more than Carl or Jack had liked to listen, but Carl’s sister enjoyed the stories. The Larsens moved away in eighth grade and Jack hadn’t thought of them for years, but Daniel’s work had brought back some memories. Jack wondered what old Mrs. Larsen would’ve thought of the real Thor. Since she always talked of Thor as being incredibly handsome, Jack suspected she wouldn’t have been impressed with the little grey guy.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he pulled on sweatpants and grabbed a t-shirt. By the time he made his way down the hall, Zelda was standing in front of the door wagging her tail. She knew their routine, and she was always eager for her morning walk.

“Hey girl,” said Jack, patting her head as he bent to get his sneakers. The Asgard were still on his mind, probably because his toe hadn’t quite stopped throbbing, but Jack had long ago accepted that part of being with Daniel meant finding books all over the place. He wondered if the Asgard had pets, and if they did, were those cloned too? Maybe he’d ask Thor one of these days.

Jack, partly by nature and partly thanks to years of military life, thought that a nice brisk walk was a good way to start the day. (He used to run, back in the day, but he hadn’t for some fifteen years thanks to his knee.) Daniel, on the other hand, partly by nature and partly because academics were allowed to start their days later, thought that the best way to start the day was to remain in bed until at least eight, or as close as his work schedule would allow. So morning walks were always just Jack and Zelda.

It was nice to step outside and smell regular fall air without eau de skunk. Zelda seemed to appreciate it too. Jack had to pull her away from a mud puddle, because he didn’t feel like dealing with a muddy dog. He didn’t mind the rain – it was just water, and he didn’t have to be out in it for hours on end, like he used to offworld – but a mud-covered dog could make a terrible mess.

He always reviewed his plans for the day while walking Zelda. That morning he had a phone conference with General Yarrow at 0815. Davis had been in Washington for an IOC meeting, so Jack would meet with him. Davis had relaxed a bit lately – he was still a model officer, but was embracing the camaraderie which made SGC so unique. (Well, that and the stargate, of course.) The rest of Jack’s morning was free. He liked to leave a couple of hours open on Mondays to deal with whatever might have come up over the weekend. After lunch he was pretty sure he had a debriefing, and then the rest of the day was devoted to paperwork. He had requisitions, commendations, and yet another security report that needed to be finished.

Sam and Eddie were hosting movie night that evening. Teal’c was getting restless, so everyone had been coming up with things to occupy his time. Jack could only hope they picked a decent movie.

And speaking of hoping, he really hoped that IOC meeting had gone well. The Russians had sulked away from the latest standoff without zat blueprints but with new information on how staff weapons worked. Better Davis than him, Jack thought. He also hoped that nothing had come up over the weekend.

It occurred to him just how much hoping he did. “Huh,” he said. Before he could consider that any further, though, he had to drag Zelda away from another giant mud puddle.

And, as the dull pain in his toe reminded him, he really needed to start looking where he was going in the morning.

* * *

 

Daniel was in the middle of a highly enjoyable dream when he was awakened by a six-foot-two icicle sliding under the covers and latching onto him with the precision of a heat-seeking missile. “Jack,” he mumbled in protest. He’d been on the verge of discovering a copy of the Library of Alexandria, but he was losing body heat to his partner and the desert of his dream faded away.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Too cold to sleep.”

“Sorry,” said Jack, who sounded truly repentant for once. “This Black Friday shit is insane. I left at oh-three-fifteen and there were already a hundred people.”

Daniel reluctantly gave up on his dream Library of Alexandria. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did,” pronounced Jack firmly. He did not at all like Black Friday. But Cassie and her friend wanted to be the first people in line at Best Buy this year. Jack had considered the idea of the two young women alone in the middle of the night in a poorly lit parking lot and deemed it intolerable. When he failed to talk Cassie out of it (she thought it would be a great adventure), he’d decided to go along until the crowd was big enough to deter creeps.

“I take it they’re safe?”

“Yep. Security’s there now too.”

Since that was taken care of… “Stop stealing my body heat.”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“I’m only borrowing it.”

“Last time I checked, borrowing without permission _was_ stealing.”

“Clearly,” said Jack with an air of superiority, “you haven’t checked recently enough.”

Daniel just groaned. “I’m too tired to argue about this.”

“I win,” crowed Jack.

“If you insist on calling it victory.”

“I do.”

Daniel was chalking this up to one of those things that you put up with when you love somebody. Plus, Jack _had_ been standing out in the cold for hours. “Don’t make this a habit,” he said in his best I’m-warning-you voice.

“Okay,” agreed Jack cheerfully, pleased with his ‘victory.’

Since they were apparently going to stay spooned together, Daniel shifted a bit to make himself more comfortable. Ugh. Spooning was not nearly as pleasant when Jack was freezing cold.

“I don’t know why people do this voluntarily,” mused Jack.

“Because most people measure their value at Christmas by the price tag on the gifts they give. Or receive.”

“Really? We’re going to talk about how screwed up the world is _now?_ ”

“You started it,” retorted Daniel. “Besides, I’m too cold to sleep, remember?”

Jack groaned theatrically, but Daniel knew he enjoyed it, and Jack knew he knew it. These moments of verbal sparring mixed with serious conversation were something they both relished.

“Did Cassie enjoy her adventure?”

“She was still enjoying it when I left. Don’t ask me how it’s supposed to be enjoyable.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“She should’ve just let me buy her the damn iPod for Christmas,” grumbled Jack. “I’m freezing. It might be days before my balls come down.”

“Funny, they always manage after a freezing hockey game.”

“That’s different.”

“I’m not sure how.”

“It’s shorter. There’s a game to watch. Food is available.”

While those were, in truth, fair points, Daniel thought his partner was still missing something. “It’s still cold, and you never complain.”

“You just don’t appreciate a good hockey game,” concluded Jack with a mixture of regret and distaste.

“I haven’t seen a hockey game yet that I’d call good.”

“Now you’re just insulting me.”

“And you’re still stealing my body heat. Deal with it.”

“Love you too, Daniel.”

“Night, cariad.”

His last thought before drifting to sleep was that whoever said that love could keep you warm was a bald-faced liar.

* * *

 

Eddie was technically a part-time member of SG-16, when their missions required his expertise. Missions that called for a biologist tended to be on the less dangerous side. He had yet to encounter any Jaffa while taking samples of local flora. Then again, safe was relative offworld. Eddie had survived a mudslide, two hurricanes, a cave-in, a venomous insect sting, and quicksand. This was a new one, though perhaps they should’ve expected it sooner or later.

They could now officially say that plants which produced urushiol were not confined to Earth. Too bad they’d learned this the hard way.

Though, come to think of it, most things at SGC seemed to be learned the hard way.

“I had poison oak once,” said Captain De Boer. “I don’t remember it itching this much.”

“Maybe this alien equivalent is more potent?” suggested Major Ferguson, idly scratching his knuckles.

Ferguson stopped mid-scratch when Olivia Brightman stared at him. She ran her infirmary under strict no-nonsense rules. Blatantly ignoring her explicit instructions was not allowed. “Major,” she said firmly.

“This stuff isn’t working,” Ferguson muttered.

“It won’t work any better if you scratch it off.”

Eddie wished Sam was still there to distract him from his own itch, but alas, she’d done the responsible thing and gone back to her experiment once she learned that he’d be alright. The Air Force frowned on her leaving experiments unsupervised, particularly when those experiments involved precious naquadah.

Having successfully avoided poison ivy, oak, and sumac on Earth, Eddie found this to be an altogether new experience. And not the pleasant kind. He had always thought it was fascinating how a simple plant compound could cause such a terrible reaction. Faced with personal experience, the science was rapidly becoming less fascinating.

Jack entered the infirmary with his usual commanding stride. “What’s the verdict?”

“They encountered the local variant of poison ivy,” explained Olivia.

“It didn’t _look_ like poison ivy,” said Captain De Boer.

“Maybe not, but it _acts_ like poison ivy,” retorted Olivia.

Ferguson asked, “How were we supposed to know? Poison ivy is easy. Three leaves and shiny, best move your hiney.”

Jack and De Boer both gave Ferguson questioning looks.

“Well, that’s what my grandmother always said.”

Eddie knew Jack well enough by now to realize that, just underneath the man’s concerned commanding officer face, he was smirking like their was no tomorrow.

* * *

 

December was off to a cold start this year, to Daniel’s displeasure. And not just cold, but cold with biting wind. He’d taken his heavy winter gear out of the back of the closet and, like most people in Colorado Springs, didn’t leave the house until he was bundled in several layers. Even Colonel Fisk, an Alaskan who considered Colorado winters mild, had admitted that it was “a bit chilly.”

As soon as they got back from walking Zelda, he headed to make coffee. If he was lucky, his internal organs would be thawed within an hour.

“You know what else would warm us up?” asked Jack.

“An electric blanket?”

“Sock hockey!”

Sock hockey was Jack’s new invention, discovered when a balled-up pair of socks fell on the floor and skittered across the kitchen. It required a pair of socks, two yardsticks, and sneakiness – the latter being the only way Daniel had a chance against his partner. Also, they had to be careful not to whack Zelda with the yardsticks when she came over to see what on Earth they were doing.

“Maybe when I’ve thawed a little.” Right now he was too stiff.

Zelda did not approve of Daniel prioritizing coffee over her dinner, and proceeded to take her complaint to Jack, giving him her best starving face.

“Is Daniel letting you go hungry while he makes coffee again?”

Zelda’s ears perked up. She’d learned to recognize the word ‘hungry.’

“Yes, she suffers so,” remarked Daniel. “Only an hour ago I shared my cheese with her.” It was good fresh mozzarella, too, none of that string cheese stuff.

“A whole hour? Poor girl. C’mon, Zelda.”

As usual, Zelda set about inhaling her food almost before it hit the dish. The stuff smelled gross to Daniel, but she loved it.

Jack pulled a packed of hot cocoa mix out of the cupboard, which signaled to Daniel that his partner was planning to go to bed fairly early. Jack didn’t like to have caffeine if he was going to bed in less than four hours.

“Did you see what the Russians gave Evans?” asked Jack.

“No.

“A bear fur hat. Good timing.”

The Russians had thought Commander Evans was a wimp because he didn’t handle cold particularly well. A recent joint mission to a desert world had changed their perspective. Evans, it turned out, had grown up in the Australian Outback, and when the teams were stranded in a hostile desert environment Evans kept everyone alive. Red as tomatoes from sunburn, but alive and reasonably well. Colonel Lukov had been heard to confess that perhaps what he had seen as a weakness (that would be Evans’s intolerance for cold) was in fact the sign of a different strength.

Jack added, “They should’ve ordered some in bulk. Probably could’ve sold them for a profit.”

“Still trying to convert Russians to capitalism, cariad?”

 

“Levi’s did that for us a long time ago.”

Jack had a couple of pairs of Levi’s which accentuated his ass wonderfully. It was no surprise that people the world over liked the jeans.

“How about a fire tonight?” suggested Daniel. He enjoyed curling up in front of the fireplace with Jack on a cold night. It was homey and comfortable, and seemed like the perfect thing to do on a chilly Friday evening.

“Sure.”

They took their hot drinks into the living room, where Daniel noticed that a light snow was falling.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be cold but clear?” he asked. The clouds had been gathering while they walked Zelda. Daniel had in fact wished for more clouds, as they often kept it a bit warmer. He was certain the forecast had predicted cold and clear all weekend, though.

Jack nodded and looked out at the snow. “Another strike against meteorology.”

* * *

 

Meteorology continued to fail them the next morning. Jack didn’t hold meteorology in the highest of opinions. They seemed to get away with being wrong a large percentage of the time. Really, how could they miss a foot of snow?

Daniel had declared it a good day for working at home from pictures. Jack thought if his partner was going to do work, it was a good day for him to catch up on laundry and finally get around to reading the novel he’d picked up last time they were at the bookstore.

“Jack!”

“Hmm?”

“You have to see this.”

As he got off the couch, Jack wondered why Daniel never seemed to make his important discoveries at a more convenient time. He always made them in the middle of something really interesting, like now when Jack’s protagonist was about to learn the identity of the man who killed his fiancée.

Jack had learned to live with interruptions a long time ago. He looked at the pictures on Daniel’s laptop screen. “That’s the thing SG-28 brought back with the strange power readings.” Sam and her people had been pretty excited about it the previous afternoon.

“Rainmaker,” said Daniel.

“What?”

“That’s what it says. It’s a modified form of Ugaritic script. Barely modified, which begs the question…”

Jack wasn’t particularly concerned about whatever question it begged. They had a device labeled “rainmaker” with massive power readings, and shortly after SG-28 brought it back to Earth, a freak blizzard cropped up. The odds of this being a coincidence were pretty damn low.

While Daniel mused about linguistic shift and a relative lack thereof, Jack grabbed his cell phone and called SGC. Bypassing the usual channels, he called the extension which went directly to the ranking officer on duty.

“La Pointe.”

“We have a problem.”

“Sir?”

“Daniel’s looking at pictures of the device SG-28 brought back yesterday. It’s apparently a rainmaker.”

“That would explain the abrupt change in forecast, sir.”

“I thought so. Send that thing back through the gate, Colonel.”

“Yes sir. Escorted, or do we just throw it through?”

“Have Marines take it back. The scientists will hate me slightly less that way.”

La Pointe didn’t quite suppress his chuckle. “Understood, sir.”

By the time Jack got off the phone, Daniel was drawing strange shapes (Ugaritic, maybe?) all over his paper. He didn’t even look up when asking, “They’re sending it back?”

“Yep. And I’m going to turn on the TV. Should be interesting to see what the Weather Channel makes of this.”

“Going to watch them squirm?”

“Hey, payback’s a bitch.”

“Payback for what?”

“All those days they watch the rest of us go completely unprepared for the weather because they got the forecast wrong.”

He could just _feel_ Daniel’s eyes rolling.

* * *

 

Daniel had come to the realization that he wasn’t very good at romantic gestures. Jack was; Daniel had enjoyed everything from breakfast in bed to a moonlit dessert picnic. It was time, Daniel decided, that Jack got such a pleasant surprise. So he formulated a plan and set about trying to pull it off without Jack catching on.

He needed Jack out of the house for a few hours. For this he’d enlisted Teal’c’s help. Teal’c was a perfect choice because he and Jack went to the movies frequently, so it was quite ordinary when their Jaffa friend suggested the outing to Jack.

Once Jack left to meet Teal’c at the movie theater, Daniel got to work. He’d gone shopping the previous evening, claiming that he wanted to browse the bookstore. Which wasn’t even a lie, really. He _did_ browse the bookstore – along with several other retail establishments. He left the other purchases in the trunk of his car, safe from Jack’s curious gaze.

While Zelda inspected the new bags, Daniel started a load of laundry. That done, he moved the furniture around to suit his purposes. This involved pushing everything back so there was plenty of empty space in front of the fireplace.

Having made plenty of room, he opened the box which contained an air mattress. Not just any air mattress, though – this one was the same height as a regular bed. According to online reviews, it was very comfortable. Zelda trotted over to investigate and watched suspiciously as the mattress took shape.

He set a collection of vanilla-scented candles around the living room, to be lit just before he expected Jack home. Jack didn’t care for most scents, but he had a soft spot for vanilla.

Daniel had originally planned to buy a king size air mattress because their bed was a king. Since the store had been out and he hadn’t had time to drive all over Colorado Springs, nor did he have time to wait for the mattress to ship, he’d just bought a queen and picked up a set of sheets. He transferred these from the washer to the dryer, then checked the time. Happily, all was going according to his schedule.

He dragged the coffee table over near the air mattress so his supplies would be within easy reach. Astroglide, check. Chocolate body paint, check. Brush, check. Towels for cleanup, check. Glasses of water in case they worked up a thirst, check.

A quick trip to the wood pile and Daniel was back with an armful of wood. He arranged it carefully, nestling fire starters and some kindling in among the sections of log. He stacked the extra wood neatly nearby so they could easily keep the fire going.

By the time he expected Jack home, Daniel was ready. The air mattress was made up with freshly washed sheets, the living room was lit only by candles and the fire, classical music played just loud enough to be background noise, and he was waiting for his partner wearing nothing but silk boxers.

The door opened. “Daniel?”

“In the living room.”

He could hear Jack dropping his keys in their usual spot and taking off his coat before heading to the living room.

“You would have…” Jack stopped speechless once he entered the living room. “Daniel!”

“Yes, cariad?”

Daniel did enjoy seeing the huge grin which took up residence on his partner’s face. “You’ve been busy,” Jack noted.

“You’re overdressed.”

“I can fix that.” Jack wasted no time in addressing the problem. “Damn, Daniel. This is one hell of a surprise.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He was also glad he’d managed to pull of the surprise aspect. That could be very tricky with Jack.

“Oh, I approve. I most definitely approve.”

“So I see.” Jack’s approval was quite obvious when he was naked.

As Jack joined him on the air mattress, Daniel was pleased to realize that, so far, everything had gone just as he’d planned.

Quite a while later, when they were sated and spent, Jack hooked his ankle over Daniel’s and said, “Amazing.”

“What is?” Daniel asked, though moving his mouth to form words took an absurd amount of effort.

“Orgasm. This surprise. You.”

He turned his head just enough to kiss his partner’s shoulder. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

They lazed in silence after that, because no words were needed. In fact, words would have gotten in the way of what seemed like a long, drawn-out moment of perfect contentment.

Daniel decided that he could do this romantic gestures thing, after all. It was another of those moments where he felt that everything they’d suffered was worth it, because they got to have this. Because other people got to enjoy this kind of happiness without suffering.

“Mmm,” said Jack. “Life is good.”

It absolutely was.


End file.
